Look At Me
Everyone kicking about in their fucking costume. How much did that cost? Thirty for the jeans, t-shirt probably twenty, that jacket pshhhhhht easily fifty. Smoking a fag, Mayfair as well living it up. Oh, he has spotted me! Right, game face, game face. You’re cold, right? You gotta shake a bit, man. Come on. Are we gonna go for empty glance, or dare we stare? This guy…this fucking coward… will hate a stare. One day I’ll prove them right.
As he approaches, a puff of smoke unveils his phone propelled from pocket to face- the millennial magician. The greatest trick of them all…innocent apathy.
Guarantee this cunt isn’t typing anything. Bet you by the time he is a few metres by me, that phone is going right back into his pocket……YES. That feels good. That is my celebration. Oh, another VICTIM heading my way. Subjecting them to my impoverished venom. The antidote? Fucking twenty pence. A fag, even. Please just give me a fag I want to breathe. Oap, never mind. This one is fleeing. I Gotta laugh at that man; she’s almost walked into the bus stop trying to avoid me. One day I’ll prove them right.
The high street dampens as the light runs out. The traffic at this time is bipolar. One side offering drunken generosity, the other threatening souls.
He has just looked at me. He is still looking at me. My eyes are in a relationship. I am human.
“Sorry Buddy, you aren’t allowed to beg here, company policy.”
“I’ve been here all day mate been no prob….”
“Sorry, buddy”
The eyes are gone. Floating existence. Fucking prick. The first bit of eye contact I’ve had for days, and it is followed by that. If the concrete is not my home, then where the fuck is it? What am I meant to do here?
The sun rises, and our homeless friend is feeling optimistic. The commuters. A lot of money in commuters. Loose change, loose change. Change for parking, change for lunch.
Best behaviour. It is parents night. It is adoption day. An open house. Invest…please. Recent hair cut on this one. Nice wee gym membership on the go as well, I reckon. A flashy guy.
“excuse me, mate?”
No earphones, no phone, no excuse. The man stares forward like a soldier ignoring his fallen brother. Forward forward forward.
“You not see me mate?”
The nameless, homeless hopeless man charges. Takes down the broken soldier. His solemn demeanour disappears. Screaming for help as if a wild animal has attacked him.
“Do you see me now, mate? Do you see me? Look at me!”
Homelessness is its own prison similarly filled with empty rehabilitation. I gutted that man. I can still see the bloodstain his perfect shoes. The forgotten toy rediscovered. Found under the bed covered in asbestos. I proved them correct. Keep me in the wild, and I’ll promise you, I’ll be wild.
All you had to do was look at me.
Cheers