From this view I see a homeless man too drank to even sit straight.
On his makeshift bed of carton and well worn blanket he lays sound asleep unperturbed with the rest of the world.
Today someone gave him a few ‘reds and he sipped his worries away.
He didn’t mind walking to his ‘abode’ staggering. He knows it’s his solace, his palace if you may.
This moment he is the King. And no one can make him feel inferior tonight.
As the streets go to sleep and the shivers come to haunt him, he will curl up in an infant position and cover his body tight in the blanket.
To him, poverty is when he can’t drown his sorrows away with his favorite ‘suruduwire’ liquor.
Maybe one day the liquor will make sense to quit and live normal but normal is overrated.
Tonight with no place to call home and no one to call family he sleeps despite the mosquito bites and a strong urge for warmth.
Disclaimer: I felt like doing a piece on this guy who shall remain anonymous because he honestly loves to work for his drinks and although he is homeless that doesn’t stop him from working odd jobs to cater for his whims and survival. He is a loner traversing earth with a hope to stay alive.