Lost Feelings Found

A piece inspired by the writing and writing style of Jack Kerouac.


Rhythms are present. Breathing, beat by beat. Heartbeats, breathe by breathe.

Alone a traveler sits. The bar electrified by the clatter of glasses. The bar electrified by the chatter of people. Clattering and chattering, an arcing beat hovering above from invisible stereos.

Dum, dum, da, dum, dum

Mind wandering, people passing, drinks flowing.

Can they hear this traveler’s heartbeat? Can they hear it? The beat?

Dum, da, dum, da, da, dum

Will this anxiety leave? The booze, the juice, hits. The beat infiltrates the mind. Barriers breaking. Barriers falling. One after the other.

Still the starry-eyed traveler sits. Sipping, whiskied coffee in hand.

Sip, sip, sip, they go. Melding in to background rhythms and beats.

Dum, Dum, Sip, Dum, Dum, Da, Sip

Mind in a clutter of fog. Sounds everywhere. Amplifying by the second. Clattering, Chattering. Sounds everywhere. passing, flowing. Sounds everywhere. Breaking, falling, sipping.

Yet.

Alone a traveler sits. Content in life content in life.

Alone a traveler sits. Content in the life they live. The life without a home. The life without chains.

Mind wondering; thoughts, observations, questions, stories, dreams. Hidden from the world.

Alone a traveler sits at the bar. A drunkard to the passerby, a book to the bartender, a homemaker to themselves.

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