Abandoned, Urban Exploration
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.
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.