Here

Sitting in my desk at work, watching everything around me. What is here?

It is so strange to me this place I am in. Have you been here before? Has anyone ever been here before?

Sounds like a silly question, but it’s hard to tell sometimes, what is real or not.

I sometimes feel so detached to everything around me like an obscure bubble of dried paint run half way down the wall.

Like a one legged man standing on the bus corner watching and waiting while everyone is passing and rushing by not ever stopping to smile or offer a warm gesture, masses of people just filled with haste.

Like a far-off ringing most choose not to hear, they think it makes them crazy if they acknowledge that small annoyance in the background although we all can here it at some point or another.

And in the background echoing voices are all around me, like far off cries for help, but too far away to be understood muffled by the barrier of what’s more important.

I am just stuck in a place where time doesn’t tick forward and time doesn’t stand still. It surely exists but only to the faces around me. My face is in a place called here. I don’t know where here is.

Reviews

[Anna]

I'm pretty sure I've been there before, maybe I'll see you next time I go on by. This is an amazing poem on capturing a feeling that is hard to comprehend. You did a beautiful job appealing to the 5 senses and talking about something depressing without making it feel depressing. I love it.

[NaugleB]

Thank you! I come to this place often so please stop by and say hi sometime :) this was literally a what I like to call word vomit piece, I just wrote exactly what popped in my head, no editing, just to see what I could produce. Thank you again Anna, it is always a pleasure talking with you and reading your beautiful writing.

[Anna]

I guess one mans vomit is another mans treasure, eh?
And why yes, I am Canadian :)