Free Hand #13 (Synthetic City)

Today is one of those days that I struggle with SLC. This is a rough piece that I jotted down about my own personal conflict with SLC.


My blood is hot and the water

boils against my skin. The cool wave

of wind holds tight to my skin,

breathing through my clothes

and outlining my body.

You look up into the sky and wonder

if there is anything at all, I say,

don’t bother looking, does it

even matter?

My bones begin to crack under

the strain of living in a city

built over plains. A synthetic

place made of hopes and tears,

fake a smile and let it all

go, this place died long ago.



If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope you return in the future!



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