it's 11 pm.
And I feel empty.

I feel like I could quit by now.
Down to the beauty of a lonely harbour
the sky is colouring array of saddened blues
scattered like an ocean
then seek shelter underneath a bridge.
My legs dangle freely over the clouds
i feel like I belong down there.
Biting gusts of winter air drove my body and
the chocking aroma of ash roamed around me

Passive smoking past my body
It doesn't always drift around when it's daylight
like one would create invisible shells of me.
This wasn't daydreaming nor a transport.
That was an escape.
I wonder if the fog take me to wonderland of discovered map
Which I may never listen the waves of the impossible agonising routine
to land inside
What if i feel the same?