settled…

this old brown leather chair has cracks in it…small pieces fall-off each time it is sat-in…a constant sweep…a constant sweep…cushion turned upside-down…hiding it’s tears…hiding it’s years like a socialite…forever young…forever young…

and i was a gypsy…a strolling vagabond… no home…possessions…there were none…all was disposable…carted to a dumpster in a moment’s notice…discarded clothes…discarded books…discarded life…everything is temporary…

it was New York streets…sleeping in corners of the Midtown library…under trees in Central Park…keeping track of bathroom codes at Starbucks…coffee and buttered rolls at Apostle’s Church…week-long vacations at Bellevue…who says bein’ crazy is crazy…

longing for you old brown chair…wanting to be comforted…by something strong…heavy…stable…you have not let me down…you have not let me down…

i sit this morn in a lap of love…do not throw this away…do not…for it is mine to keep…hold- on…hold on…

you are home…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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