Inside. Outside.

Outside:

I have not bathed in a week. I have not shaven - the beard is quite fetching - nor changed my socks. My pants are dirty - shiny over the dirt. I am sure the smell which I emit is complementing my haggard look. I am sick from some hobo virus common to all stays at all shelters across this Union. My feet are sore and my shoes are falling apart. 

Life at the shelter has become routine. The screaming in my head is unbearable for lack of medication. I have thought of just lying down and stop breathing on several occasions. I had seen the mental health caseworker. They are convinced I am bonkers. Utterly mad. I don't blame them. I am. I guess you cannot live the life that I do without slipping a few gears. The shelter that I now reside in. What a filthy den of Lost Angels. All are mentally incapacitated. Or physically broken. There are a few good apples in the bunch, however. An elderly gentleman dressed in tattered military rags who lays akimbo on the dirt covered tiles smiles and enjoys conversation when I walk by. Otis a quite mad black man entertains me with jovial banter as he hacks from one chain smoke to another. Most people keep to themselves. There are a few guys there that I lust after, but I am remaining aloof. I did have a run in with the "I'm the toughest guy in the shelter" over the weekend. He wanted to have me thrown out over no reason than that he stated that he did not like me. The staff all thought the tirade which he displayed was quite funny. So did I. When the threats of a fight seemed immanent, several of the staff began pulling wadded bills and bags of marijuana and pills from their pockets to place as bets between each other on who would be standing last. Thing was, the man was a sixty-something year old embittered queen. It did become quite hilarious. I simply mumbled the fact that I never hit women, handicapped, or the elderly which pissed him off even more. Seeing that this ancient bitch still wanted to prove his lost youth, I flatly said no and barked, "Look, there is nothing I can do to make your life any more miserable than it is. Go find attention somewhere else!" It, surprisingly enough, knocked the wind out of his sails and he hasn't said anything to me since.

This morning, I was sitting in the cold wind at a local park as the sun was crawling it's lazy ass over the horizon - socks sticky and back hurting - and I thought to myself, If I can get out of this predicament unscathed and in reasonably good health, I am fully retiring...

 

Inside:

I am quite a dirty virus lost me morning thought seemed - staff become occasions caseworker, Angels surprisingly. I began common barks enough at man your shiny routine to live all who jovial. I thought pulling elderly over myself. The banter toughest wadded. Which the local if not the rags seen life mentally to a guy tirade sixty-something pissed is wind park. I bathed incapacitated few he look and women him nothing. Out all my mental. Or thought hacks bags old off of the screaming week. Shelters head health do physically dirt from shelter displayed of bitter sun. Marijuana queen sails unbearable. They slipping tiles quite broken in and crawling on this dirt Union. Smiles smoke weekend funny pills did it's predicament - another seeing lack convinced few. He lazy unscathed feet of gears enjoys anything quite ancient life said ass and beard. Emit the good conversation. Most pockets hilarious bitch. Utterly wanted sore fight bonkers shelter apples when people have a smell and stays. Bets that I keep the place just miserable me. Horizon good fetching my make mad I walk to thrown threats mumbled knocked since - health - haggard shoes of I now bunch by themselves out of on the prove somewhere cold medication den, breathing wind in man shelter thing to entertain akimbo hobo handicapped on guess of tattered hope...