Some people stood
some and stared
some
nudged one another
some
and spoke
conspiratorial whispers
but
not to me
saying naught to me.
I lit another cigarette and smoked it
defiantly
in defiance of nothing.
Anger flooded over despair
over me
As I watched myself
in shop windows strolling
aimlessly
alone
apparently.
These feelings were like
The ashes on my cigarette,
Grown long and heavy
dropped
crumbled
scattered
In pieces innumerable
Invisible.
Returning to me in
The sound of my footsteps
falling
carefully
measured
footsteps on these
cement blocks.
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nedful thingsThere are things that we need and things that are Ned. Nedfulthings: a collection of labyrinthine conversations and a fistful of dreams...WidgetBucks - Trend Watch - WidgetBucks.com
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Cement Blocks
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The Poet is like an onion - because when you cut him, he makes you cry.
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