Cold hard floor – I

Lyin on the floor of my tiny room surrounded by things unorganized by the lack of furniture as the clock strikes three on my phone’s screen that emits intense light hurting my eyes in the dead of the night,

my back to the door with loose hinges that creak every time it’s opened and closed, waking up the new born in the adjacent room,

I look out the huge window that opens facing the abandoned broken hut on the top of the hill behind little houses across the road, as I hear the dogs attacking the garbage bins that lie unattended, teething through the plastic greedily, the thieves of the night that fear no one,

the cold, hard floor pricks through my bones; and I stay immobile, hypnotized by the weakling light from the lone night lamp up the hill in the void of the dark abyss

 

© skartsland

 

 

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