Embolus

Published in

QUING OF THYME

1 min readNov 19, 2019

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Photo by Ivan Bandura on Unsplash

Standing at the window
Staring at the amorphous mass
Winding down the streets
No regard for left or right
No regard to invade or ignore, hurt or heal
Mindlessly stuck in the traffic of bodies
Devoid of senses
Meandering through the streets
Clogging the arteries of the city
Friction but no connection

Standing at the mirror
Staring at the amorphous mass
Devoid of sense
You have become the same.

Poetry On Medium

Irati 🔱🦉

Written by Irati 🔱🦉

Editor for

QUING OF THYME

antifascist feminist thinking about (&) feeling many things // not “a man” // any pronouns but "he/him" // human // ʎ|y

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