Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Half Dead

Crazy people, crazy heads, different mentalities. He sat on the 6th floor window of that apartment on the Financial District,just smoking weed and looking out. He loved the smell of weed in the air it gave him a strange sense of confort.
An artist neighbor playing his guitar, a very sad but harmonious tune...it made him want to cry a little, tears of solitude in such an Amazing City.
Black smoke coming from the chiminea in the building in front, the darkest smoke he´s ever seen...probably someone burning outdated love letters that didn´t make sense anymore, that together with a broken heart will cause the darkest and thickest smoke you´ll lay your eyes on. The people walking by downstairs ,totally oblivious to the fact that he´s sitting there and has intentions to jump. God! Did it make him feel small that no one cared enough to stop him...so he dropped a beer bottle that he drank earlier that day, and it broke in to tiny pieces in the ground below.
The Deli guy downstairs cursed the day he was born, he looked down and gave him the finger. Well, at least now he knew the Deli guy would give a shit because his store front would be destroyed, and there would be blood splattered all over his fruit.
Three black pigeons sat besides him, one looking half dead and the other two not even concerned. "Of course not"- he thought ,"They´re pigeons after all". But that´s exactly how he felt, like the half dead pigeon. So ,in a leap of courage he jumped. The last thing he heard was the Deli guy calling him a motherfucker.