There is an emptiness, I can’t explain. An old man who lost his optimism and now covered in disdain. I’m a vagabond seeking refuge. I don’t know where I belong; […]
An absent horizon. Scent of trouble. It’s raining, again.
Rain and fog; this gloomy saturation permeating my warm flesh. Expectation registered an inaccurate forecast.
Urban ballet in the fall music within the umber leaves rainfall gives applause. ——– Limping gingerly; movement refusing tip-toes Doctor Scholl’s are nice.