grind.

grind.

each street light
like a pulse, throbbing sides
blazes!
like a hostile sun
to burn out my sockets dry
as I swing, perch to perch
pole to pole
on the drive home
after a languid day
of work

notes… sometimes work grinds you down, regardless of your outlook and good intent… I was driving home the other night and every street light felt like a sun burning into my tired eyes, light by light, almost like I was traveling on air but ready to fall, I just wanted to get home, pull in my driveway, dive into my bed, melt into my pillows and… rest from the world for awhile…

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