a forgettable night, gridelin sky in sight

The dextral arm bent to wrist flexed to adjust to bent knee to the dextral leg, softly shoved against the right of this hoary window, at the nook and the side which air comes passing through along with dirt particles, camouflaged fatal chemical mixes and vapours of wasted sperm potential of birthing prophets. I can feel my face as its warmness is contrasted with the cold breeze accompanied with the rusty smell of steel my upper lip is shoved against and it glistens with droplets of sweat benighted starlight and maculate lights of stillborn outsides. And those black clouds are in standstill, so am I as the warm palm of my sinistral arm hold onto this old grille, horizontal and my hand is not; creating a plus sign, an unintended contrast. Fingers three, dominant hanging on and reddened as hemic fluids dominate the vessels I assume and the metacarpophalangeal joint stiffened, stay stiff. The silkiness of the garment about my knee combine the warmth of body that seep an aura through bring this tenderly comfort as contrast to the cold breeze again and my dextral toes deformed to satisfaction surplus, I stare silently into the gridelin skies quondam the dusk, yet if the sun is lavender like a void I know of and glancing forrader these dead buildings. The dextral freed from comfort, plump palm, freckled and feels my face warm yet as the sweat run down my throat it becomes cold. The sinistral palm still holding onto the colder steel grille, accustomed to being cold. And accustomed am I, to being left alone, abandoned. Upper lip filled with outgrowing tache against the cold steel with more force, head tilted upward angulated high but eyes lower leveled to the skyline unseen, shrouded by manmade structures. Stagnant lights flicker whereof therefrom as verdures softly dance to the grey winds' hymn.

And the sky's gridelin, clouds subfusc. Long since evening has gone the dusk.

My view clear, the upper right of my eyesight has hair, the screen shrunk as outwards blurred by the bounds forced upon by the frames of my glasses. Standing still, I on one bent knee as if bowing down to the colossal sky. But I'm not. I am what? I am none. Face warm with sweat, throat cold with sweat. My hair smells like my mother's father's, said she many times I remember. And I started looking like my father, fucking genetics. My father cheated and remarried, so I know what not to do. He fucked up my entire childhood and my mother's life singlehandedly. I told you to forgive your mother when I don't know if I can ever forgive my own father. May god, I may never. My mind playing "it won't be that hard to forget me" constantly and my vision isn't as bad as it was when I first found you. It's hard to believe that I found you. Not everyone finds the one in merely one lifetime. A decade of loneliness, abandonment, nonexistence - and I found someone I could love wholeheartedly. But you have abandoned me. So I wonder if this is one of God's mockeries.