Cold

The concrete beneath me is cold and hard the air thick & breathable there was a cross on the corner but it was time for it to go so it left the music was enjoyable loud as well my thoughts have been stilled by the over indulgence of an addiction addicted to the escape my wallowing continues my sinking quiet and my presence camoflauged thus needing is too sad my beating heart has been switched to automatic and I feel like I'm falling upward to understand what can only be seen and heard fascinates me the dead end upsets me and I worry about my salvation where is my end if all it does is follow me around the bend where is my dark light if it only shines in the day cause night sleeps where again have I arrived when arriving is done in turns and why have I been surrounded by a culture that talks on steps sat upon by people watching drinking resting and stagnet, excuse me for the formalities my manners is not becoming.... I ll return at a later date I hear droplets of a written poem airing.

 

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