The taste of tobacco like poison in the mouth
made my entire being bitter. Nauseated I sluggishly
stretch my torso and emerge from the layers of
bed sheets and peer out the tarnished window.  
The careless rain has soaked every crooked
building, scrubbed the dirty asphalt washing off the
filth into the sewage and now is pouring down the
broken gutters. Rains guilty claws scratched every
wall and its culprit fingerprints remained all over
the town.

   In the past midnight hours of the street, the
traffic light rules like a ruthless tyrant with a mood
swing. First it sprays the vicious red on the wet
payment like the spilled blood of his victim. Then
his temper sways to a jolly green as if no crime was
committed just a few seconds ago; yet its short
lived mania is bound to soon turn into a dull amber
as it always does. The capricious rain, this
mindless accomplice to the crime of night splashes
the tantalizing colors of neon signs on the ground
in concert with the perpetrator to portray the
somber emptiness.  A homeless sleeping in the
corner catches my eyes. The lackluster mélange of
conflicting beams of light is etched in the fiber of
the soaking cardboards sheltering the vagabond
from the frigid autumn in a hidden corner of the
dilapidated street.

   My room is inundated with a haze of confusion,
the air is musty and light scarce.  Mere breathing
damages my lungs and thinking does the same to
my mind. I talk to myself yet my thoughts are stale,
my words blank and my heart aching by a growing
void. I have to escape, that I know, where I don’t,
anywhere but here. As the hours passe I finally
manage to stand on my exhausted feet to leave
the rotten comfort of my room and to roam the
streets on a whim.

   The cold gust scuffs my skin as I approach the
homeless coiled under the soaking cardboards
with his right shoe knocked off his pale feet at
distance. Cautiously I take a few steps closer to
the dark speck on the sidewalk and stand by him
overwhelmed by a bizarre sentiment. I take a
glimpse at his face and realize I know this man well.
I know this corpse by heart. And if I carefully
examine the subject, I can detect his interrupted
pulse, caress his frozen love and perhaps register
his long lost memories.  His ominous soul
permeates my entire being just to spread his
solemn words through the dark streets of this
town.  My diligent attempt to break away from his
morbid yoke on my thoughts only furthers the
urgency of transcribing his melancholic words.

   The collapsed drifter on the pavement lived
every moment of my past and I’m destined to live
every one of his in the future. There is no exit in
horizon from this quandary, only an end in sight.
With every breath I take, I’m drawn anew by an
impulsive stroke of a whimsical brush on the
precarious canvas of life. My dim impression is
rendered lifeless before me yet I’m manically
intoxicated by a mystic aroma that levitates me
from mundane anxiety ordained to sketch a
vivacious scope against all odds. Like an
entranced dervish I whirl uninhibitedly on the
pristine tapestry of distorted lights and drift away
from the fallen man on the street engraved in
oblivion.  My calling is tainted, my roar stifled yet I’
m sentenced to write only the dark shades of the
night in desperate hope that sun shines tomorrow.