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Retracing steps
gets you back
to where you
once were
but
it's never the same
almost as if
they rebooted the game
using different rules.

I'm guessing that
it's life that schools you
and living it fools you
into thinking that you're
drinking from a full cup.
The enchanted became the disenchanted
when the wood was put on the fire,
but I'm sure the author saw that coming,

moving on past chapter one to a computer screen
because writing paper became passé
perhaps that was seen coming too.
There are aeroplanes and aquaplanes
neither one could plane a four by two
like my Father used to do.

The dinner ladies came on the bell
us as kids would run like hell to get
a chair and stuff our hungry faces
sitting there and although a room
there was no class,
we were all the same
waiting for the time to pass
until dinner time came around again.

In fact
everything we ever saw
was waiting for
something.

The olden days were not the golden days
we often think they were.
Writing between the fault lines
and how many times have we
been bitten
written on
washed off the sidewalks?

if the cracks in the sky are where the light gets in
then
we die in the cracks between paving stones.

no one calls you
you watch as you fall and you
feel lighter
the cracks start to close and your chest
becomes tighter
and you wake up in Bognor.
So
that wasn't a duck quacking
it was a little dog yapping
for hours
and
hours

fukin little
I'll give it little,
the
little ****.
Walking through the fabled night
of ancient skies and gray sidewalks
Stepping into the world
of hot humid June

When metals towered over the sky,
Like match sticks lined up above stones
the luminescent streets blazed
into the night

Those glasses that shimmered
bright lights and yellow fireworks,
Falling with gravity,
relishing in sweet air and downfall

The wind from a distant land
that caressed the trees,
their shadows dancing
on the streets

I saw you there in broad shadows
when I marched amidst silence
I have lost my path
to the night that has fallen

But in your eternal flames, I stood
knowing that I’m still here
Some long for the morning
some wait for the night
some walk to the bus stop
some people take flight,
and for some
it's just a waiting game
watching what goes on
and giving free rein to
the thoughts that unfold.

I thought once,
but it's
a risky business thinking,
when
the eyes become fixed
people think that you're mad.

The struggle between
free rein and free reign
is real'
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