somewhere in the glass

every place I drag this sack of limbs and dreams becomes a waiting room. I watch the clock and count the patients as they pass. breathing and collecting dust on chairs just long enough to vacate warm for someone else. a lonely brain (or train of thinking) emptied at my old school. values abstractify to faint colours and hums with too much to watch on my phone. I can forget how to think and relinquish my grasp on the present as in sleep. passing sounds of footsteps. an automatic sliding door shares a glimpse of tomorrow and forever in the artificial light. somewhere in the glass passage between places. dormant in an empty screen. I keep my headphones on.