I get down from the bus sighing,
Conscious of the sweat on my clothes
And what’s to come in a few worthless
Hours. I turn to look at the departing bus,
The years I had squandered faded
With the smoke and dust.
My discoloured Penny Loafers make no sound
As they plod on the rain-polished road
My handbag dangles from my shoulder
Empty save for a bottle of moisturizer,
And a hundred rupee note, enough
For another job application.
Ahead a streetlamp burns out
And I become acutely aware of the eyes
Of the the men that linger on my silhouette.
I hurry towards the next streetlamp
Desperate for a light to dispel the darkness
Both inside and outside, a damp
Wind blows and I shiver, afraid;
Insecure of what’s to come
In a few worthless minutes.
I muster my draining energy
And dash to my apartment, happy
To be home for my last night there.
The next day was another beginning:
Twenty four worthless hours and more
To lose myself in self-pity and depression:
A morbid adventure designed for the hopeless.