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Aug 29
Freshly sharpened knives slice
at my numb skin
as I bound forwards bleary eyed
in the blueness of the morning

I breathe in the freshness of its delights
head awakened
in a juggernaut of thoughts
the expanse of being
suddenly aware
of a dark shadow
in the recesses of a shop door

it shifts quickly from my peripheral vision
I'm suddenly drawn to it
as my curiosity wells up inside
of my cold shell

I feel like the cat who is just about to spend all nine lives
uncertain of what lies in the boxed doors
to material worth.
whimpers the voice of the unknown

my eyes acclamatise
to the darkness in front
in view now
a dishelved man slumbered

face old beyond his years
he catches my eyes with his sad gaze
emminating from them
is the story of a journey of old
a soul lost in the past

such desolation
stonniness conjured

in the blink of an eye
Written by
Steven Boston
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