everyone’s a slave to something.

The frigid night air burned

as it poured

through the crevices of my

protection.

Exhilaration, I thought.

It was propelling, all of

it, on the cusp.

The dimmed, lamped concrete corners

awaited my next stumble.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s