Parking at an Angle



The street lamp piercing harsh and staring

Through the eyes and

Washing through the lining of the shell inside

Staring zombie-like; thumping in my head

Kick drum of the stars-to-be

All glowing dreams and oysters to be sipped

But I, parked aside the road, staring up and waiting

For the light to change.  The street light.

To turn a glowing green, or something more to indicate

A passage of the time


Outside the world is hanging

In that fragile moment just between the inhale and the out

The hollow turn where nothing moves

And time stops

I watch the gears slowly grinding to that moment

And there it holds

The presence of the world outside

In both of its dimensions

There for all amusement, but I

No longer entertained

For there is another world

Inside the shell, the gears to which keep right on churning

Deafening more each turn, and thumping in my ear

With every beat, reminding me

I am alone


There once was one who pierced the shell

Like the lamp, illuminating all the darkest corners

But that light is no more, and now, I wonder if it ever really was

Or is it that I am alone in here


Writer's Nook

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