“…you know you can’t sleep there” | Passages Of A Homeless Person’s Life

 

Written By

Poet and Photographer J H Martin @ A Coat for a Monkey

 

NFA

 

I wake up

And I’m on a train

I pass out

And I’m in a station

 

Drunk

Hungover

Drinking

Somewhere

 

Walking backwards

Through the morning crowd

 

Talking sideways to the passers-by

 

And nodding at a stopping stranger

Who tells me that she understands

Something I do not

 

Daylight – street light

Could be – I am

But the what and the where

I am not sure

 

“Sorry”

 

I do not have a screen of my own to touch

And I have no fixed direction

For the ground beneath my feet

 

Always moving

Always changing

 

A bus a train a plane a ride

Another unknown place

 

From Topoľčany to Poi Piet

From Tongzi fields to Burma clouds

 

It’s all grey then green then grey again

 

Like those eyes on these ever changing faces

Watching me as I watch them

Passing through our passing frames

 

All disembodied disconnections

Buying Monday tickets for Sunday trains

 

Like lovers like friends like family

All of them gone – all of them void

 

Like the roots of a tree

This body this feeling and all of these memories

They are so easy to see but so hard to stop from spreading

 

Like the motorway laid over my childhood home

Like the rash running up the back of my legs

Like the supermarket stood

Where my school was

 

Like nothing that ever was or ever will be

Had ever once happened

 

Who am I? What was I?

 

I have no idea

 

I have given away all my change

And rolled and smoked

All those discarded butts

Which flicked their laughter at me

 

“No…”

 

From here to there and back again

That roof of stars is the only law I recognise

 

And that too bright sun

Which blinds my eyes

To all the billboards and all the barriers

Is the only promise I trust

 

“Come along now”

 

There can be no more running and no more delays

 

Not now the guard has spoken

And the police have been called in

 

“That’s it mate – up you get – you know you can’t sleep there”

 

“Yes I know”

 

The walls are being burned back by the night

And this world of mind

Is returning me to the same space – wherever I am going

 

Image and text © J H Martin

 

 

J H’s Previous Contributions To Edge Of Humanity Magazine

 

A Story Of Grief

Life On The Irrawaddy’s Muddy Waters

Life On Waste Land

No Way To Die

Artist Exposé | Urban

Taking Different Paths

Reddish Days In Asia

A Quiet Exit

 

 

 

 

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