The Chained Dog

From my apartment window I watch the clouds curdle into an ash-colored film across the western horizon. A storm is slowly, lazily, rolling into the city and I wonder if it will bring any relief to this heat.

The train ride home made me wonder the point of this city commute – faces void of emotion, eyes cast downward, sweaty flesh smashed into the train cars that carry us to and from commitments and obligations.

We might as well be on long, thick chains, running in an extended circumference around a yard worn brown from our pacing and piss.

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One Response to The Chained Dog

  1. Kat says:

    This post makes me crave a perspective check. Routine makes us so blind sometimes.

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