Not an inch to claim.
Not a soul to name.
Not a breath to spare.
Not a footing to share.
The world revolves like a circus around.
You reach the destination, no memory to be found.
No people.
No place.
Because,
There’s not an inch to claim.
Some nod and get.
Some wink and achieve.
Some smile and have.
Some point and reach.
But, no. Not he.
Perhaps a random parking space.
Or a no-man’s place.
Or a library without a soul.
Or a pit with a deep hole.
To scream the guts out.
A complete mental breakdown.
So to resume the journey again.
To reach a destination without a memory to be found.
