debrajean

I'm starting to forget why I came here. Two days ago I got a job canvassing for for donations door to door in the dead of winter. Fantastic if you could make an hourly wage and not just commission. Inside: Christmas trees like Candy Land, T.V.s preaching the word of warmth. Outside: Streetlight shining off snow, hands so cold you cry out of the fear of loss, a little bit of my sole slipping out out with each breath, I watch it float away. Each person here can go home, fuck, they are are at home, they have nowhere to go and not a care about it. I feel like it fits, wandering in the night, in the dark, just for a moment I know you and your entire life. The way you close the door of your truck, I know every thing about you, feel the resentment in that soft sound.