Construction Trade Building Poem by Malevolent M.c

My footsteps echo off the brown brick tiles,
that arch & bark overhead left to right and down adjacent aisles.
The Construction trades building flowing with stranger traffic,
I scan face to face to find something familiar to grasp at. But Nothing.
No purchase, no illusions that surface. I move continuously, flowing forever like a current.
Still walking through the brown hallways of brick, i notice more people some thick, slick to many magicians left, but no more new tricks.
I sit on a brown linen chair upholstered to a decade old nineties fashion, broken from years of masses, In need of a bastion.
Something... some protection, something to please the eye, possibly a new collection could help this building inside.
regardless, it makes a comfortable seat, i listen to the music soar while i place my backpack on the floor near my feet.
I recline, the only thoughts in my head are the rhymes i hear that adhere to me like lead to a bed. I keep my face stern, trying not to look dumb.
Roll up the tongue like a smoke ring rolls up the lung till its done.
Exhaled only to be killed by the sun.
I scan and steal a glance at the normal audience, when they catch me i cover with the stuttering hands of naughtyness.
I take a look at the clock hoping it hasnt stopped, i've got only fifteen minutes till i can move from this spot. I think i'll stop for now, my hand cramps somehow, from writing like a fiend who pushes a plow.
I look forward to the future while i scrounge every cookie crumb and peso. Midnight rolls slow, but atleast it will bring Halo.

Malevolent Mc.