drifting in and out
of sleep, in a place
that's cold and smelly

too lazy to press one button
yet no reason too small
to loudly complain about

people at the
subway stop trade dignity
for a temporary high

within just a few days
my kitchen became a place
of many odours

pre-storm clouds
perfectly complement
glass-and-steel sky scrapers

there's no reason
to lock the door, when
the intruder has a key

when it rains
it rains
for days

30 seconds
could seem
like an eternity

among them i wonder
if being alive is something
they ever strive for

time
limits
everything