Like one of those clocks that old people have Or young people who like old things Like that smell of dyeing and wood When you pass by a carpenter Like that feeling you get When you were the first at your class Like your younger sister’s breathing When you used to sleep in the same room Back and forth Back and forth Pissed-off Care-free Pissed-off Care-free

The fear of uncertainty shudders through the apartment that he’s been invited to for the week He’s spent the last two hours talking to a lovely girl over dinner but he can’t remember anything she said. He has been stuck in this trance for three days. Walking down the small street just off the large boulevard he peers through a dusty window and sees framed photographs of a happy family. One off them is dirty and cracked and lays flat just next to the others. The wind shifts throughout the day and thoughout the week along with his disposition. The sky is only blue for several rare and fleeting moments. It must be more comfortable in a murky grey. He wakes up in the morning more tired than he’s ever been falling asleep at night is like dying for just a few hours at a time. He has been overtaken by his own shadow seeping into the cracked pavement of the streets that carry his weightless movements. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. He looks in the mirror on his way out of th...