(no subject)
There is a musician sitting about 15ft away from me. I have seen this one before; many times. Too many times to really count- several times for the past 3 or 4 summers. It is almost like he comes with the city. A guaranteed souvenir.
After you’ve been here for so long you almost take it for granted - wish you hadn’t started seeing these regulars at all. This one is sensitive- has words people dismiss; disregard.
His face is torn and damaged by time and nicotine. And he hardly noticed me which makes it all the more interesting. His eyes are icey blue surrounded by dents - adding character and destiny to his name. The strangers passing have dissipated- thinned out like blood and the effect of Tylenol. But his eyes are cold, hardly empty, but cold. There is no hope. He’s waiting for someone to come along. - open his life up again. Perhaps to pull himself out of the well. He will stay this way until he figures it out too. Or until that manicured hand pulls him out of the well.
His eyes meet mine and maybe he can see the truth. A complete stranger knows more about me than anyone else in the world it seems. A far fetched idea that seems to make the world make sense; helps me feel like there’s an ounce of me that makes sense.
After you’ve been here for so long you almost take it for granted - wish you hadn’t started seeing these regulars at all. This one is sensitive- has words people dismiss; disregard.
His face is torn and damaged by time and nicotine. And he hardly noticed me which makes it all the more interesting. His eyes are icey blue surrounded by dents - adding character and destiny to his name. The strangers passing have dissipated- thinned out like blood and the effect of Tylenol. But his eyes are cold, hardly empty, but cold. There is no hope. He’s waiting for someone to come along. - open his life up again. Perhaps to pull himself out of the well. He will stay this way until he figures it out too. Or until that manicured hand pulls him out of the well.
His eyes meet mine and maybe he can see the truth. A complete stranger knows more about me than anyone else in the world it seems. A far fetched idea that seems to make the world make sense; helps me feel like there’s an ounce of me that makes sense.