Windy city blues.
This isn’t Chicago though.
Yet still, the breeze blows.
Cracks in the sidewalks
Give way to the earth beneath
Fighting to be free.
Plants purposely put
Between cold marble walls to
Introduce nature.
Green leaves reminding
Dark souls that there are reasons
To still keep breathing.
Trapped inside of the
Maddening monotony.
A concrete jungle.
The End
Conversations. Stale
Like week old coffee that’s been
Reheated daily.
I refuse to do
Small talk when we used to share
Real words with meaning.
Forgive me if that
Offends your fragile ego.
I don’t really care.
…not like I did then.
Now, you’re lumped in with the rest.
Connections gone bad.
Blame it on faulty
Wiring or old circuitry;
Either way, it’s dead.
And I’m not into
Necrophilia, and I
Don’t play with myself.
Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy
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