cobbles and ancient downtown


Little alleys little alleys

trying to find the end of one

as my brain synapses onto something else

Is there a way out of this green mossy mind

Where dark chambers reside and the nearness

Of others who remain mysterious

exacerbates the loneliness of these thoughts?

Who is here to tend these cerebral gardens

The celestial beings seem to give little concern

To these interactions

And is the end of this is there a destination,

Or just a place of respite or release?

Or is it just nothing, a place to hide

From the dim outside

While others wait their turn?

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