70’s Child..

Alone he sits in the dimly lit room,

lava shape-shifts colorfully in the lamp.

Briefly the posters come to life covering the wall,

and then quickly disappear.

Guitar wailings shout from a scratchy record,

oversized speakers shaking the room.

Stained fingertips, shirt pockmarked with burns,

smoke swirls overhead.

Beyond these walls, a confusing world awaits,

unable to find a role, forever against the stream.

Refuge finds safety, time has no value,

satisfaction in the moment forces a soothing grin.


1 Comment

  1. October 29, 2012 at 3:41 pm

    I have such empathy for your experience. I wish you could find peace.

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