What’s Different About Today

Nothing, it’s all a social construction. Nilhism comes second. I’m tired, Barnes says I’m fed up, but I’m not. I’m just lonely, lonely with a home. Home is where the criticism is. Through ether and Ash. I escape twice. I say I won’t… when my home is my own… I say… criticsm is infectious. That may be my addiction, I asked my best friend if I was a good bad friend, to improve… Ensuite anxious regret. I’ve justified paranoia. I’m right!

But I degress from the day, today. I find myself on my way. An unconscious decision aroused from a fuck it & go and an arriving tram.


It is.

It just




I step across this morning’s Shirley playing field,
curving a festooned spider’s snare.
I sigh, treading through a snails bedroom.

But it’s 7:05 en route to being late to work;
A solo crow flows through, under a half cast sky,
the Eastern fog to the Western blue.