Lone

I propel the pine wood door gently as the musty scent slithers into my nostrils- numb from the putrid stench of city streets. Its the only welcoming odour which swirls happily around me as I step into the dark caricature of a home. The silent walls whispers of my lonesome figure every evening. Men like me are fugitives of extremities. We want hot when it is cold, cold when it is warm; Drought when its flooding and floods when its drouth; The calming moon at nights when days are sweaty and days when the night is too dark. I walk on the bare tiles with my gelid feet. I unbutton my sleeves which others see me in, throw it on the nearby chair carelessly, I breathe easier while naked. The drawn curtains makes my house disappear under the moonless night. Living in the box, I am untouched, unharmed, unseen- I stop humbugging and start living. My lips still burning red like ember in the glow of the table lamp. Even a nobody would guess that I had had spicy snack on my way back, I needed the piquancy in a day of blandness... dinner was planned for midnight. I wonder about the cocoon which exhales the butterfly into world of bees. I look back at the past. However, I know that a cup of coffee will anesthetize the thoughts. The voice inside me would reduce to a mumble and then all that would remain will be quiet. In that quietness, heard is the sound of raining shower and smoke. I am invincible as the bullets of water ricochet's off me. The waterfall streams away with the scum of my skin and confluences with the river beneath my heels. Forming shapes and images like clouds- just more intimate. I see mockingbird and loons; Alstroemeria and white roses sucked by the drain-hole. My life capitulates to the chaos around it and sinks, along with me, on my bed. I look to the space beside me while I lone for a warm hand upon my cold palms. Slowly, I give in. Running away to a faraway place from these thoughts that still haunt me within the impenetrable walls. I give in to the weariness, to wake up tomorrow like today. Today which is yesterday and tomorrow. All the days are same. It doesn't really matter.