Smeared black ink.
Your palms are sweaty,
and I'm barely listening
to last demands.
I'm staring at the asphalt wondering
"What's buried underneath where I am?"
(Where I am)
I'll wear my badge:
a vinyl sticker with big block letters
adhered to my chest.
It tells your new friends
"I am a visitor here... I am not permanent."
And the only thing keeping me dry is...
You seem so out of context,
in this gaudy apartment complex.
A stranger with your door key,
explaining that I'm just visiting.
And I am finally seeing
why I was the one worth leaving.
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Just a lost soul.
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