It's here,
Across her gaze.
Under the flora,
The grey grim murk on the perch.
The swallow song no longer heard
Over rap-racket from the stereo,
Hardening ear lobes.

It's here,
In the shallow pits of the room,
Where one wallows in part-pity
And shameful surrender
To the mic’s mild embrace.

It's here,
Hiding in the hollow,
Glaring wistfully into nothingness,
Gliding in undulating vistas
Across light and dark
In the dark and light of head-space.

I hold the rim of the coffee cup,
Clasping tightly until it drops
On her clammy clad,
The iris eyes me dangerously.

My final resignation.

Now I am here.