deepundergroundpoetry.com
Blue
Cold neon, half lit
walls angled, tilting in.
Spaces made for
sleep, but are nowhere to be
found.
There is a joy in lying
here, blank and un-
assuming, knowing soon I must
permeate back into the out-
side: the real world.
It would not be truthful to say I
couldn't wait here forever,
my little blue shell, shuttered in, when
everything beyond this place is so
red.
walls angled, tilting in.
Spaces made for
sleep, but are nowhere to be
found.
There is a joy in lying
here, blank and un-
assuming, knowing soon I must
permeate back into the out-
side: the real world.
It would not be truthful to say I
couldn't wait here forever,
my little blue shell, shuttered in, when
everything beyond this place is so
red.
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