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Jan 13
from a hole in the bed I crawl
from a window in my head I watch
from a sill, life in green rushes by
from a quiet air I think
myself into pounding and ringing

from the grey walls I roam
from the bus stop I dream
there’s a reality I’ve tasted before
but never savored, so
from a chalice of happy I sip myself
into ****** oblivion

from a beautiful scape I watch
the anxious sun beat color across the sky
and feel no heat

from eyes I make sense of a way home
leaving pieces as I go,
the roads paved in passing timeΒ 

from stairs I climb
room to room
and I’m here

from the pit of pity I mount the ledge
just to fall back
into bed

- c
falling into a daily routine
c
Written by
c  22/F/Chicago
(22/F/Chicago)   
122
   Mark Tilford and ---
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