i want nothing.

and.it's.fucking.scary.

you pour yourself over me, like the sun through the blinds.

you want to throw up

you walk on the sidewalk. avoiding the cracks. you're a little ocd that way. you notice the writing on the walls. play with your hair. you think you really need a haircut. you feel the tips of your hair. they feel dry. split end-y. you shake your head. you smell the smell coming from the dumpster behind the italian restaurant. you scrunch your nose. you notice the man on the bike looking at you as you do that. you look away. you avoid eye contact at all costs. you see the little crossing man telling you to hurry so you can cross the street. you do a little jog. you see a man digging through the garbage. his hair was once dreaded but you notice that now it's all matted together to look like just two thick dreads. he's looking through the garbage. in the middle of broad daylight. you see him and you can't stop staring. you forget about the cracks on the sidewalk and your hair. you forget. he finds a starbucks cup. jackpot. he opens it and drinks from it. you seriously want to throw up. you hold it in. barely. you feel like gagging. you walk by him and he doesn't even notice. he's so happy about his starbucks. you wonder how long it's been in that garbage. you fight the urge to throw up. you walk to your car. put your monthly decal on the window and head back to your office. you catch up to him. he's walking in front of you. the air is not working in your favor. it's going against you and you're catching his stench. he occasionally stops and talks to himself. you realize you have no problems, except the urge to throw up.