Dead End

With a hand clamped over my mouth
and moist breath on my neck
the future dragged me into the ally
where it was dark
disgruntled
where trash cans held the past
seeping out olfactory accusations.
The breath shunted its way out of my mouth
as decision slammed me against the wall
stole my dreams from out of my bag
and yanked the possessions of possibility off my wrists.

I staggered from the dark
shell-shocked, Stockholmed, still,
and saw unfamiliar faces,
places of unrecognition before me.
Self-consciously, social-consciously
patting a hand over muzzed up hair,
I retreated into that alley,
glancing briefly at the sign nailed to the wall
understanding now that this was where I would, of course, be.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s