mission control; we have a problem.

I had forgotten how ungodly this hour seems when you're all alone and the sky is the colour of your aunts stress-grey hair. the minutes tick on but I don't think I remember them any more, though they do not forget me, catching my every breath and slowly spiriting them away.

I'm surrounded by strangers with needs for personal space but public transport is anything but spacious, except if you're the old drunken man who shouts at everyone because you remember how it feels to be lonely, and you miss someone you cannot have back.

I feel quiet but in constant motion, like a brooding earthquake, the rain clouds yet to fall. birds scatter as I pass, fed up with singing now they have an inattentive audience. no one really listens but the poets and the artists, those that lament the coming of the day, the rise of humanity, miss the dawn haze like a lover from years before.

I no longer need you to kiss me like I have forgotten how to breathe. the clock may tick on, and steal my ebb and flow, but there is a secret in me that not even the birds know and it keeps me riding this out; a slow spiral as i cascade towards the earth.