The bargee

On the towpath which is no path for the fainthearted is where it all started, watching the sticklebacks separating fictions from facts making several pacts with myself which in turn turned into chains and chained me to the troubles I went through. Catching the dragonflies making eyes at the jack pike like I knew it…

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Tracks

This is where they grew into the people that I once knew. Friday far away from the games we play, but close enough to touch, that’s as much as I know because I didn’t grow, remaining as I did in the shadows where I hid away, Friday. Cold outside and cold in here I can…

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