Singularity.

Not wanting to assimilate
No need to ingratiate or even to populate.

In the alone wearing my clothes which are home to me are these things that are known to be,
my truth.

No one but one where one can be one and one can be true to oneself.

Selfish is singular too,
another one that is one and so true.

Here on the Central line there are twenty minutes, enough time to write and more than enough time to open my eyes and be overcome by the plight of us all.

On the tube wall, Rwanda, the fate of the elephant, the panda, the children, who wills then misfortune on women and always the children who suffer.

The next stop is my stop, how lucky to get off, but the world turns slowly for some,
if time is the gun,
It
is already smoking.