deepundergroundpoetry.com

Stationary

It's dark out and we've no place to go,
But to sit, keep sitting, in this chair,
Leather black, smooth and shiny,
Type, type, type until fingers are dull,
Write, write, write until the ink runs out,
And the breath leaves your lungs,
And the pump leaves your heart,
It's late and it's dusk and the sun is setting
And we've nowhere else to go but here.
Written by byeantigone
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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