longing for the escape of a kennesaw stroll

arrived late
woke early
half expectated
to feel
like a relief
but it doesn’t

the birds sing
the same song
the bed is there
the smell
the conforts

the nothingg
the silence
the anxiety

that part of me
that knows
i deserve
lesser than
being on the road
relaxed the burden
of solitary
with the shared
of the others
in that hotel life

now there is
no excuse
but to face it

at least on those
kennesaw strolls
the dream was
it would all be
somewhat better

it is more
of the same

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