Abandoned, Urban Exploration

in #aswcontest7 years ago

My blog of Urban Exploration is here: https://midwesturbanexploration.wordpress.com

These photos were taken in Madison, IN, USA in the abandoned staff housing at the sanatorium.
Poem about the experience below.

Entry for abandoned shit #aswcontest

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I didn’t recognize you

from the first of glances

hot, cold, air, breeze,

busting, dusting,

safe spaces—filled with asbestoses

every moment

every second

perfect

picturesque

on the edge of death

already abandoned

thrill a non

only in this moment do I feel whole anymore

but you

with all your holes

you hold them all

so many

so I don’t have to fill mine in

when I compare with you

pealing

peal

chip

break

stick

to the floor

double sided color

the back side of the room

every room

one chair

you go forever

I could never keep up

while she’s in the next room

sleepless another anthem to

not be held a candle to

I want to sleep here

in the green room

where the fibroids still lurk

unsure

plastic bag chips

crumbling like the plastic gown we stole from dry rot

files

scads

client-patient-doctor-hospital–confidentiality

blown

undercover detectives

blow up the walls the distressed locations

then you tear at me like finger nails

on another rant

we winepage through the alleys at night

hill chargers by the fire side

tiny rivulets run their veins blue, cold, a different pale face

and then there was you

you

you

again

the yellow light that I’d lusted after

dusted after

she filled me

although we found her in the men’s bathroom

her people

her places

her locations

where are we again?

double selfies in the bathroom

thump thump thump thump

I never saw that room

Can we move in? Get married? Have lots of babies? Take over the world?

Is that a tornado? Thunder?

To the asbestoses room.

Was that you? no.

But only after the silent moments of self.

As she played in the other room,

moments before the moment of terror,

contemplation

utter peace

complete belonging

let’s take over, let’s make this our world

our forever safe place.

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The amazing thing about poetry is, the reader will always have his own interpretation and everyone is right in their own way

Reminds me of artwork, the art of words.