Getting There

Half asleep, for last night insomnia would not stop to speak. All night she told me boldly of the fears she has and shared with me her songs that end never, ever infinite they are and loud. She is not apologetic but on the contrary quite proud that she selfishly forces this reality unnaturally upon me ‘till it covers me like a plastic bag.
I’m on the train. Uncomfortable, but I cannot blame the people around me. I’m going to be late and I hate it when that happens, but it does and it becomes me. I glimpse through the slice of window I can see at the trees with blurred edges and the birds that backwards fly, and I am not there, but here flawed and I would not have heard it had it have cawed to its partner having gotten a worm for tea. That’s what I think I did not see as I am squashed ‘tween armpit and pot-belly. On their backs I can smell their houses and I don’t like it so I stop breathing, can’t tell anymore how many seconds my breath was just my own and I have to let her go; a farewell to she from me for this is my stop. As the train slows I make sure that I have not forgot’ my bag. Follow the barriers shining with reflections of those who heads are now of sheep and cows and sows and they make their noises but I don’t because I am bored of all this. My brain compares; the lift or the stairs? But my legs just keep walking ‘till I’m outside dreaming of sleep. Walking lightly touching not a single gap to save my back from breaking, like my Nan told me when I was small I recall it well obviously. The pedestrian code I need not abide as I stride through crowd and traffic alike. They all have eyes, only some of them shine in time for me to see them so I move but they don’t because that’s me, that’s what I do but unfortunately they are not like me, in this way. Which is best? Should I delay my journey further for the sake of a politeness which they do not care for either way? I digress… so the building hangs over me in shades of old, behold its grey glory looming. Buses pass behind me, their voices are heavy with smoke so they moan along the road been told where to go and on board are people moaning too – it catches I’m sure. Inside into another crowd, check the time which wastes a bit more of it ironically, stairs and hallways doors with handles and numbers, I can’t see inside them which nerves me – I tell them to go away so that I can go away inside and they listen for once which is nice. And I’m sitting here, writing here content that despite the world I finally got myself here.