Outside

He woke up

in a pool of strange filth,

dusted off his ragged shirt,

breathed in the stench of alcohol

and smoke

and stumbled over to the window, to open it.

-

The sounds of roaring engines

almost burst his eardrums,

people screamed below in the streets,

the whole room started shaking

pipes were leaking, gas was seeping

into his lungs.

The streets were being swallowed alive,

and there was no hope left.

-

He woke up again,

in his pool of strange filth.

Dusted off his ragged shirt,

breathed in the stench of alcohol

and smoke

and stumbled over to the window, to open it.

-

This time, rain shattered the windowpane

and the room filled with water

then filled his lungs,

then his lifeless body.

-

He woke up one more time.

Dusted off his ragged shirt,

tried to breathe but

wheezed and coughed instead.

He staggered over to the window, to open it,

and outside

there was nothing.

-

His organs wept,

his tired body jerked,

his breathing briefly paused

and he felt that same, old feeling

of the walls closing in.

-

Every morning was the same,

had been the same,

and seemingly

would be forever.