Stuck

The guitar twitches
Scratching the itch I can’t
Already moving on
For the niggle at the base of my neck to return
A thought I can’t banish
Actions with no payoff
Words with no meaning
Frustration lays before me
In a criss cross pattern
Of backstreets and alleys I know intimately
But they have an allure
Akin to a stale lover
Been there, done that
Let me drive off the map page

But first, change the song.

Little Ginge x

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