Empty pockets...

Nothing in my pockets except for fluff, and even that fluff is
beyond my means. It comes from a time when I could afford to make
gestures such as going into a shop and buying a newspaper and a bar of
chocolate. No longer possible, because there is nothing in my pocket.
The fluff blew away as I examined it and now, it has left my world. I
put both hands back into my pockets and the most valuable items that
had been in there for a long time twitched and twiddled. My fingers
were bored and desperately seeking something, anything to do. It's cold
and that coffee smells good in the caf?, but it costs money. I stand
and sniff the air some more. No harm in that and it's not theft. I
moved on a little and did a little window-shopping. Of course, it's a
form of torture to gaze at all the items that I'd love to own but are
so far beyond my means that it's almost as if I cannot really see them
and they don't truly exist. There seems to be no work in this town. I
need money, not just for fripperies but to live. To spend on food, rent
and light. To describe just how useless I feel cannot be done with our
limited language, if you could just look into my opened mind for a
second, if you could connect really deeply, you'd be aware of a
constant need to cry like a frightened child. It's a sadness that
permeates every part of my being and won't let me go for an instant. I
don't know what the future holds for me but I can't wait to make this
feeling one that dwells firmly in the past.