Patrick McCombs · Jan 11, 2012
Walking

The traffic was virtually nonexistent
My senses were surprisingly resistant
To the ever flowing torrent of rain
Walking helps keep me sane
Out here time moves as slow as molasses
As the rain drips off of my the rims of my glasses
The water tastes salty on my tongue
I can't wait to stop being so young
My shoes hit the concrete
My stride has a certain beat
I roam the perpetual street
My thoughts always repeat
I've got to keep moving
Must keep improving
If I stop
My head will pop
My thoughts are an endless barrage
Breaking through the mirage
Till I get at the very essence
And unravel the very fabric of my reality

 
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