I walk the Lonely Places.
The worlds of emptiness and shadows.
Where no one ever travels.
The place in between the center lines on the road.
The abandoned attics filled with moldy mystery paperbacks.
Graffiti covered alleyways littered with trash.
An empty stadium, my shoes tapping on the concrete stairs.
The spot beneath frail winter trees under the shadow of the thin moon.
Sitting on the stool at a closed bar, a dusty glass sitting on a coaster.
A dark studio, watching the shadows dance on a blank canvas.
A statue in a square, its stone body slowly crumbling into nothing.
Sitting by the side of a frozen stream, dead leaves covering the icy surface.
Sitting on an empty merry go round, music ringing in the dark silence.
A room lit only by a flickering light bulb.
Because that is who I am.
I
Walk
The
Lonely
Places.
I
Am
The
Lord
Of
Lonely
Places.