Crash

He is fixated on the movements of the wind.His head dragging against the sidewall.Every now and then the pupil shrinks as if the walls have opened up in to vacuum.Bright vacuum.He dreams on the curves of a light bulb that flickers belligerently in a corner of the room like a rat under paws.He thinks of himself being into the dim light,still.The wanderings  of his mind run towards the walls and fall flat on the ground,unable to cut through.In this room devoid of structural ardour a window stands barely hanging to the insides of the wall like an old man's ribs.Untouched

There are taxis running in the streets below, delivering one famished stomach to another.A baby girl has been crying for an hour in  a cradle,due to hunger as her mother and others sleep to orchestrated sleep patterns and butt warming quilts.Another child cries under a bridge slowly vanishing into dense fog.His mother besides, dead an hour ago.Blue and cold.He might follow.
Seldom seen women are reaching orgasms with raging tension in their bodies and minds.As some men puke salted waters on the side-street for love not found or no reason at all.

He sits ,his face ashen surveying the ceiling back and forth with no movement at all as if life were written on it.Blank
In another similary disarranged room a man recites verses from a romantic poem to read to the girl he has recently fallen in love with.He cascades pictures of her in his mind,her salvaging smile and then a drive into the setting sun until they turn into little black silhouettes.The girl stands on the 11th floor of a building above the fog ,glittering.She has plans to jump off.She was a read a poem not true ,not fulfilled.However not a word promised anything.

His tongue has become dry like a shriveled leaf clinging to a twig.His throat sticks to the back of his head.Inertia has dropped dead.He wants to drink water but gives up the idea.Everytime

An old woman lies soaked in her own piss behind a garage door shivering under a leaking staircase.It will be morning before she knows it.But not this time.Godspeed old mother.
The neon bulbs at a railway station scream numbers and names.Some of them correct with relation to the future.These are the real soothsayers.Thousands of eyes study them with a common discomfort.An old man steps down from a wagon.Shrieks in pain and tumbles.Dead before hitting the ground.Its incredible.It takes an hour for his son, selflessly searching for his old man to finally find him.Lying cold like a sculpture in a museum.People staring,flashes discharging.

He suddenly slaps the air in thin light and closes his fist shut.With a jerk he pulls his arm back and lets his arm rest casually on the floor.Where it remains.A smile abrasions his face.A teardrop slides down his face.The coldness of it relaying like pain down his face.The smile widens.His last one.

Down in the street a blind man stands on the sidewalk trying to draw configurations of the street using sounds and smells.It will take him 20 minutes to cross the road after a young man helps him across.During these 20 minutes a hungry dog licks a dead snake in a roadside furrow.He registers something across the road.Rushes for it.Won't make it
Morning arrives almost furiously.Cars start rattling and screeching on the roads.There are offers listed everywhere.Bargains.Bring happiness home.Give something to your child,to your mother,your father.Take some for those you love,Take some to express love.Leave others behind.Leave everything behind.Live large.Live with style.
The doors to the room open as light swallows the stuttering light bulb.There is wailing and dry expressions of grief.A gaping wound next to the wrist, an open cut is posing monstrously.An old man stands outside the door scared of the redness of the floor.Tired.In his hands a bottle of wine that he wished to share with his son,after he watched an old man fall dead to the ground at the train station, almost in front of him.It can be too late sometimes.he concluded then.
The doctor has already declared 11 people dead tonight.He notices the tightly clenched fist.He forcibly opens it.A dead butterfly falls to the ground.He will cry himself to sleep tonight.