Darkness. Nothingness. Meek words. Yet thoughts that are capable of striking fear in the greatest of men.
The bridge is only a few more streets away.
A shutting off of all the pain & the torment. The inevitable heartache that follows love; the sorrow that follows joy, and the destruction that follows life.
My breath hangs before me crystalized, almost alive, before it retreats back into its nothingness. It’s brevity of life showing how little time it desires for this world.
It’s been hovering around freezing for a few days now. It takes less than 15 minutes for hypothermia to set in. Less than that for unconsciousness.
They push past me. They look through me. They look through each other, choosing what they wish to see and ignoring the rest.
The bridge is in sight. A three meter drop might save the water the trouble.
They ply themselves with drugs, gods and heroes so they don’t need to look inside and see the –
‘Please,’ he squeaks, ‘Sir,’ he adds as if the word had meaning. I turn to throw him my wallet and that’s when his eyes catch mine.
They look silver in the moonlight, piercing almost vampiric. I throw this street child my wallet and wait for his little hands to devour it.
But he doesn’t.
He looks back at me in fear and awe.
‘But how will you eat’ he says with a authenticity that only children are capable of.
My eyes water as I storm past him.
A shred of humanity? But for how long shall it last.
The snowy concrete of the bridge wall feels cold on my hands.
Is there hope?
And yet –
Scribblings and Broken Glass 