airport blues

to terminal
terminally ill
sick of moving
never sitting still
racing from one
end of the world
to the final
end of the world
stark raving mad
yet hate filled
with longing
to be loved
training to
be expected
to take the train

sitting on the floor
of the vending area
with my charger
stuck in the wall
behind the machines
for a recharge
yet drained
from the anxiety
of the constant
into a magmatic
discharge of anxious
lines of improper
proprietary prose
from pedantic lips
to the aether
falling on deaf ears

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