Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

Sleeplessness

Stuck in 1979,

where there is a lack of colour,

a lack of intuition.

There are no maps.

I have no sister, no brother, no family.

I rely on the small comfort of a cigarette,

waiting to be cast into streets of fire.

The district sleeps alone tonight, just like every other,

listening to music.

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