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Exploring a sort of free verse descriptive writing

I’m in a window up high off the main street. It’s a tiny window under a triangle roof. It’s a story book window for a girl and her dolls. You feel her there, in that room looking out that window, A Rapunzel of innocence with long luscious hair.

 

People walk by on the street and I’m sitting at the computer but I see them like life rafts that my eyes swim to with a drowning mans stroke. I am a sinking ship. I literally stand and tilt my head as they walk by �" our eyes like hooks on the ends of fishing lines connect and hold us tethered by memory long after they are gone.

 

That is if they ever looked up and saw me seeing them - being seen is a struggle.  A child looking out from this vantage would be a cry for help and rescue �" an ongoing conversation about the girl on the corner in the tiny room… me looking out is a captive monster, a thing unseen as quickly as seen, left unmentioned, the eyes of a lunatic: The imprisoned beast salivating for human flesh.

 

Sometimes I yearn for them to come back, to acknowledge me to let me nibble on their succulent human flesh.