This is a little something that I wrote whilst questioning the validity of life, the meaning of the World, and my own existence, on a dull (delayed) train to London.
P.S. You can find the rest of my poetry here.
As Fields and Factories PassFields and factories pass,
as I gaze into the grey plastic spine of a dejected chair.
Hot air spews from the vents to the left of me,
and from the woman to the right of me
telephone conversations spoken loudly
competing with keys tapped like hi-hats
I live in my own space with headphones
plugged into nothing,
as fields and factories pass.
(C) MJW 2017
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