loitering by D I Hughes

Loitering

the clock ticks like a mad man’s mind:

frozen in time

by the loneliness of the crushing crowds

and the comfort of the cold hard stone;

the kitchen floor is a hard mattress

no need to move

no need to fight it

just open the can of worms

there are worse ways to spend your time

you could be cooped up in the hutch

waiting for lunch

waiting for the clock to set you free

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