Old habbits Old friends grey clouds a few drinks neither here nor there some new faces but old feelings a sense of want a brave face arriving at a destination where the train is stood still waiting for the opportuninty to chug along the tracks passing red brick buildings that have stood complacent for many a decade this train was full of passengers all eager to get back home after being away for what seemed to be like a lifetime. wha would they return to? a semblance of their old life or a chance to start anew. a smile greeted them that had never left an aura that maintained during a winter embers ready to be welcomed by the fresh air that swayed about the damp concrete streets of manchester
a life of insignificance a life of deadlines and dead eyes peering into their phone waiting for some form of good news a release of endorphins that’ll curl their lip upwards in an attempt to prove to others that they are in fact human. Their heads constantly facing downwards as if waiting for the ground to swallow them up. Yet the ground stays still like it always did and seems to do these days the most stable thing in their lives seems to be inanimate grey and trodden on yet they constantly shake around in thought hoping they land on one happy idea to carry them back home from this artifically lit underground train track.
wear shoes, write poems 