By Riggs
Date: 12 June 2000
Untitled
For months I searched the premises
went over every inch of the building.
Where the fuck is the door.
I can feel someone inside watching me,
why won't they show me where it is.
There's a tunnel through the stones at ground level
but I refuse to crawl.
I'll walk in with my head held high.
If only I can find the bloody door.
Only now, after months of searching,
vainly,
scraping me fingers raw on the crumbling mortar.
When I have all but given up.
I look to the charcoal sky and exhale.
Expelling any last shreds of hope that I had managed to sustain.
I lean back against the blood stained wall.
Which crumbles and cracks.
Dumping me on my back, dusty, and coughing.
Inside..
With a soft hand pullin my dust coated hair from my face
Grinning.
At the sheer absurdity.
Camus would have loved this
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