Diary of a Homeless

For the streets have claimed me as one of its own. To get out is the goal. For these stinky and sticky clothes that cover my dirty skin is not for me. I will try everything in my power to not fall victim of it. To not become one more story is the thing I want. Poem after story, we hear and say so much about it. Have you lived it? The storm of thoughts that take over your being. For some, is just so much easier to beg and plead for money that you'll never know where it'll go. Food? Medicine? Habits? I'll never understand why and how someone can reach this level. But, no one will understand my reasons of being like this either. Hypocrite, I know. Hypocrisy is keeping these thoughts flowing and the mind going. This is what I like to call: "my own habits". My version of "Being in control". Pathetic, I know. This idea of working hard is just a blur to me. I desire to be in doors with a fan or AC full blast all over the house and have some kind of calm and peace for one day. I don't want to think about: "Where do I go next?" or should I say WE? Yes, We.