on the phone I see apathy and everything I want to be in people I will never know. the irony crowns me diseased and I am disgusted by my reflection in the pathetic pleas for validation that stab the remains of the hope that was. without my glasses I let my eyes linger on the screen until they blur. coloured shards of light make mosaics in the dark and everything is beautiful. if only I could stay this way. to tread lightly and brush over the day, no need to cry or look closely: quick glances and sunshine forever. anger toys with every thought. I envy the believers still drunk on the illusion that we mean more than how we feel and everything happens for a reason.
the skies are grey today and the trains run late. at my desk I seek refuge from the quiet and my thoughts in the spreadsheet. the words mean nothing and this is a gift in the face of the growing space and time between dreams devoid of consequence. the waves lap at the window and I don’t want to go outside where the faces and feelings won’t fit in the cells on the screen. I think about the flood and what it took to start again.
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