Strange. The beginning of this city is the same; the personality of your smell is my flat it grows out across my sheets back in and i pay with the few minutes i’ll need to when I’m late later
the sun likes my blinds and your sleeping back as i wake easier for work
looking up, I blink and count the scabs I see in the sky and the shouts from annoyed cabbies and the cuts in my chin
from shaving smile, they leak open and drip down into the basin each one pulls down the time i’m late but dress casually all the same it’s worth while this disorder this mixing as I choose as I fold my tie watching you sleep as i dress and experience a new laughing a.m.
making my work day an agile song
just, a man smiling at a streets raven through a kitchen window making breakfast fixed with linking steps that were loose as we danced home last night
i learn to do such things at my desk preferring to think of our feet twelve hours before
yours – in those shoes i love mine – clumsy up the stairs screaming about something i cannit
remember back to flat number seven seven ***** machine guns seven taps on 'enter' now sending this email making me laugh the peach lifts up through the city and the power to tell one person that i’ll see you soon is more than enough gas to find my keys
just enough to crawl up my blocks stairs and relax on my back with you welcoming disorder forgetting my boss watching the rest of the morning rise up from the landscape whilst you sleep in
i laugh under my breathe keeping it to myself letting the rest of the day rise up beginning itself.