It don’t mean much

when you don’t connect.

You just walk on

and roll like it’s

nothing. And it is.

You wander where Will

is spelt capital and

therefore meaningful. I guess.

And the streets splutter

and alleys cough as

you reach an impasse:

do you continue or

do you lie down

and yell out you’re

done. But in saying

so, you find a

spark, a glitter that

only gets you riled

enough to rise up

and move on. And

on. Night collapses on

you, weighing you down

even more. You bear

it just long enough

to reach some refuge.

Connect or not? It

no longer matters as

you wait. And always.


© 2017 L. Tafa



Author: b20f08

I enjoy solo wargaming and writing. The first caters to the boy that never grew up; the latter satisfies a deep desire to communicate. Cheers.

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