Loneliness

Alone.
A busker’s husky voice,
drowned by belching engines,
when vehicles zoom past.
The flickering buzz of lights,
creating shadows beyond despair.
The icy wind whipping
mercilessly at his skin,
like nails piercing his flesh.
The stench of rotten litter,
putrid and foul, it clogs his nose
on this late winter’s night,
alone.