Via Daily Prompt: Constant

Static noise buzzing, and humming in his mind

There is no escape, from the constant drum

Worse when he’s silent, tired, and numb

Alone in his room

His breathing holds stage

A front row seat

At his concert of gloom

He tries to focus and bypass the racket

Imagining clouds

Warm breezes and meadows

The smell of  jasmine

Of birds

Making shadows

The smile of a lady, and wink of an eye

Surging of blood

As she passes him by

He dreams of a lake, at the foot of the hills

Undressing and bathing

No need for the pills

Just fresh healthy living

At peace with his mind

Of loving and laughing

Set free from his

Grind.

©paul

 

 

8 thoughts on “Grind

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