In a hotel lobby with a glass at the hand thoughts | poem
poetry
Carry an orange bag because you like the bees.
People think all children were innocent, I was one
not at all.
Guitar riffs into synthesiser is a way back for rock n roll music
it’s June and half the year is being born in wirer nets.
Hangovers and regrets about the season that’s been.
A walk in the sun
removes the shades of winter burn, anxieties released
let the skin breath swim in a lake.
Eat something new but familiar with a known thing
custard maybe a type of meat.
Sat in a hotel entry with space, ten at night
Art Decco on the walls
night night lampshades, a spacious bar
with music.
Talking to anyone, willingness
round glass and ruminations.