I race to arrive at a place I disdain, a fixture
in perpetual arrivals
and departures. Cloaked in a scowl
an aura that screams for distance. I invision myself invisible,
untouchable: Queen; of the Escalators,
of the maze of gates , of a path I could walk blindfolded.
I destroy my actuality
for eight and a half solid hours, supress
the "fuck it" on the tip of tongue and finger.
When that sentence is sufficiently served, I am a little less
proud myself alive...a little more: tired disgusted angry...
Mask on a bit more firmly, to fall
into a dreamless sleep, wake to rinse and repeat.
Don't know if this s finished it came to me on my commute...
