Wires from descending elevators whip tourists into buying more than they can afford,
A group of cleaners take worn sponges and grate them against sterile table tops

Tired eyes glaring, so many faces forced into a socially restrained concrete,
Sipping lukewarm coffee whilst a massive woman dives into a greasy papery bag

A waiting room for spiritually degraded human beings,
Who can no longer bear to hold a saucepan
One man’s anxious head makes a turn as he waits for his friends to turn up,
Everyone here sitting in transient seating that numbs the **** muscles,
The only thing that links us together

People making occasional eye contact with one another,
It’s so brief yet so uncomfortable
Another group of cleaners with gloves like loosened condoms
They move in like domestic vultures,
They pick apart every table in their sight

A young man runs and weaves past these tables with hot plastic against his ears,
He’s talking to people who are very far away,
He’s mentioning travel arrangements,
He’s keen to get away

Dried salads line rusted metal troughs
Day old dim sims bathe in ***** coloured oil
Drinks fizzle and foam out through people’s mouths and noses
They look diseased and shattered by everything

People eating here supposedly akin to cattle at feeding time,
However,
Cattle eat fresh grass in lush fields with fluffy clouds with a bright blue sky above
Where you sit,
Plastic plants lay in corners producing no oxygen

Cold metal chairs hit stained tiles as cleaners start packing up for the day
Asian women in the distance paint customers long claws,
They smile at each other’s colourful toes with gleeful envy

Though a large bird **** splattered window you see people down below rubbing their bellies,
They ride an escalator upstairs,
To spend time with you in heaven

Wiping irreversible grease into your trousers,
You throw garbage into a metal mouth and leave

Each Word That’s Spoken Loses Altitude, Everything You Think Is Quietly Booed

A Busy Mind Screams Out Across A Night Sky, On Earth You’re Just A Little Bit Shy

People We Know Become Strangers You’ve Never Met, You Sometimes Ask Them for Change at The Launderette

Not One Hours Rest, Moon Still Standing Nice and Tall

Stars Still Hanging on, You Ride Hazily and Lazily to The City Train Station

Seeing Faces, Seeing Slouched Shoulders, Seeing Tired Eyes all around you

Waiting and Thinking of Home, Observing Yet Constantly Yawning

In No Time You Are Propelled Forwards and Out Through the City Limits

Metal Container Rattling, No Snooze Alarm for the Rising Sun

The City Dissolves into the Back of Your Eyes as You Hit A Tunnel and Enter the Suburban Void

Suddenly Fantastic Splotches of Greenery Drift into Sight, Dabs of Golden Light Float Like Dandelion Spores in The Air

People Move Up and Down the Carriage Schizophrenically, Fidgeting, Never Considering Sitting Still, Not Even Once

Please Just Look Out the Window

Outside Battered Tree Trunks Lay Lifelessly in the Middle of Wondrous Sprawling Fields

Clouds Ripple Insanely Throughout the Horizon, Livestock Enjoying Themselves While They Still Can

What Follows This is a Series of Dilapidated Sheds and Abandoned Roads Leading Up into the Hills so Jagged They Must Have Been Cut by a One Single Colossal Breadknife

Stuck and Contorted Within A Space of Remarkable Silence, Your Room Sits Still, Mind Whirring Away Half-Heartedly

Walls Closing Inwards Like Heavy Iron Doors, Doors That Both Slam and Stub Your Spirit

Your Physical Appearance Takes A Dive to The Bottom of Your Worries, Thinking of Nonsense That Only You Believe Is Important

Days Pass by Your Closed Windows, You Don’t Care Which Way the Wind Blows

Glowing Windows embedded into mouldy brick walls
Ivy climbing the gutters of neighbourhood roofs
Skies becoming burnt out like charred blackened fields

Tall spiny trees project shadows onto the road below
Leaves curl up to receive some weakening light from above
A formation of sputtering cars cling to each turn they decide to make
Cloudy milky light bounces off faulty windows that exhale the aroma of somebodies impending supper

A heavy truck manoeuvres itself into the blistered bitumen horizon
Dry deflated branches make obscene gestures towards passers-by
Gardeners rummage through their bags as they near the end of their working day
Their faces filled with an expired enthusiasm for breathing

Parked hunks of metal pelted with dead itchy leaves
Windscreen wipers hold fragile twigs down against grotty neglected glass
Chain-link fences link disparate housing and the sleeping people within
Some dispirited unsatisfied psychos gaze up as they catch a moving bus

Smoky Incense billows down from some apartment balcony
The air becomes cold and sharply fills these ordinary streets
Engine sounds try to supress the divine quietness
They only merge into it

Now the stars are out and about
Bright specks waddling in an aerial pool of dark blue
You turn the key and walk through the front door