The brickies crack,
and between the grouting
in the smoking area.
You can only see it at night
two lines in the wall,
when no one is around,
except the crickets,
and you waiting out the hours,
of an empty watch.
Thinking about home,
so tired,
four more hours to go,
and the only thing to stare at,
the end of the cracks,
the end of the boots,
the circling of hands,
over surfaces only there,
without light.

This has been a super random Nodeshell Rescue.

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