Walking to the Office

The wind is square, it smells of rain after dust. I slink under the university’s concrete awning. Each brick pillar is propped with a half full glass of snakebite. By the delivery entrance a polystyrene tray of shredded cabbage and fag butts is tied to the doorstop with a pair of tights. Streetlamps turn off and daylight follows me. It angers the gulls who pick at the stadium’s carcass. Bleach mist conceals all but the machine’s closeness. I am mad in every single way.

– Benjamin F Jones
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About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
This entry was posted in Prose Poetry, Scraplets and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to Walking to the Office

  1. I feel like some of this could be poetry. The first sentence is great. I have this itch to create line breaks. The last line catches in my throat.

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