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I know Lonely Street. I’ve walked its beaches, Stared mindlessly at Friend television. I’ve filled afternoons With sips of coffee. I know all of the Hiding places there: Bars with cement floors, Noisy ceiling fans; City libraries; Movie theaters. There is no color Here on Lonely Street - Only replicas Of houses ashen. There is no music - Reiteration. I know its benches, Where I tease pigeons With my popcorn and Chitter at tree rats, Watching worlds go by, Waiting for passage. I know this safe place, This sanctuary, This holy sector, This respite from feeling, Where any feeling Feels likes it's torture. So, I hide or seek Anonymity.
0
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Lonely Street
I know Lonely Street. I’ve walked its beaches, Stared mindlessly at Friend television. I’ve filled afternoons With sips of coffee. I know all of the Hiding places there: Bars with cement floors, Noisy ceiling fans; City libraries; Movie theaters. There is no color Here on Lonely Street - Only replicas Of houses ashen. There is no music - Reiteration. I know its benches, Where I tease pigeons With my popcorn and Chitter at tree rats, Watching worlds go by, Waiting for passage. I know this safe place, This sanctuary, This holy sector, This respite from feeling, Where any feeling Feels likes it's torture. So, I hide or seek Anonymity.
wordwerks
Written by
wordwerks
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
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