Hums of conversation. Lip glows. One leg crossed. Driven back into this corner. . It is the same when I leave. As when I come. On a higher or lower frequency.
And it is so strange. With these eyes out into darkness. And it is so strange. All they want to do is sleep. . And it is so strange. They want to sleep through silence.
The street's reaching up to the open window. Too much information leaks in and shoots up my spine. Lifting my head off the pillow. And the dust rises when I set my feet on the floor.