Mood Exercise 230602


Flickering eyes.

Passers-by swim past.

Wandering lustre. Décor damp yet tidy.

Champagne angst.

Somnolent inside, dragging presence

down within. Fighting fidgeting.

Shallow breaths between

coffee sips and toasted lip service.

Harsh reflective canyon gusts

swallow clothes and cast-off newspapers

and concrete dust.

“Shall we?”

Not so much as a welcoming

hint as a command.

Dully following

wondering when is

pay week. Morning office



© 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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