Musings At The West Coast

Traffic lights bleed onto rain-stained roads
A blurry yet colourful noisy solitude
Battered boats with dirty-cherry windows
Illuminate the waves with a golden-orange hue
Heavy lamps that dangle at the starboard deck
Slash througy swells much like crushed felt tip pens.
Where the world shall wait behind my back
Whilst I empty my thoughts from this darkened end.
For I still can’t grapple how to handle
This entire adulthood jingle
Of words like raindrops pelting on my mantle
Lips in motion, mind befuddled.
Because words can fail me and I can’t hear my voice
I just hope something will one day fill the void

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