(20 minute poetry)

Stupid in the tube again,
sardines,
but no brains and then the
key turns on this can
and I swim out.

A crowd in here and I
can't hear myself think out aloud in here
and it smells a bit like I smell on a
Saturday morning when I've been
through some hell the night before.

I wonder what I do this for,
step inside the tube and hold the rail beside the door,
there really must be something more
to life than this, but if there is I haven't found it yet.

I'll get off at my stop and do it all again.

A sardine,
but
no
brain.