Is this boring? Is this sad? Is this life I lead so bad?
To see the world through windows...Is a glimpse all that I've had?
As I try to mark the seasons, leaves change from green to red
And I try to know the reasons, but I raise questions instead...

I rush my way through airports, from taxis to hotels,
From conference to coffee rooms; perhaps there's nothing else?
Perhaps all that we ever see, is never really true,
And the best that we can hope for is a window with a view...

walk around and breathe the air,
learn it

make your perfect picture then
burn it

forget the broken dreams, think of an open road

petrol bomb your memories and leave a note in code

flick a switch and listen to the city music play

and don’t regret a thing; the place was full of wankers anyway

Half close your eyes, and red and white
Become the colours of the night.
Distractedly observe the glow
Of laundrettes, chippies, chemists go

Flashing by the rain-streaked glass
And disappear into the past.
Green, amber, red, you nod your head
And twenty others sway in time.
A sordid stage, the characters
All acting out a complex mime
Of barriers that self contain
Each separate universe of pain.

Now focus in, and analyse
The backs of heads (can't see their eyes),
And wonder if they'll ever see
The night-lit, street-time poetry.

She cried. I don't know why:
I was confused, I waited.
I tried to kiss her eyes,
I felt used, I contemplated

Lots of actions; none seemed right
I left her body, moved away.
By her reaction perhaps I might
Have seen I shouldn't stay.

She wouldn't talk. I didn't ask.
I dressed and watched her face.
She tidied, she had her mask
Held rigidly in place,

And I could not see through it.
She asked me quietly to leave,
Forever. I didn't do it:
How could I believe

She wanted me to go?
I was hers for the taking.
I wonder, does she know

I'm breaking?