25th August 2009
A small space in the back of a carriage that No one particularly notices, Without a space behind, a single space, A Hideaway for most.
Enough room for someone as thin as I, Blistered foot, sore back, nothing less, Daydreaming into daylight - No view from the sun will pass my very eyes Or pain them to a point where I begin to Resent the surroundings of my own.
Whirring keeps going and I feel less tired, Thus, Hideaway does me well; it Leaves me room to kick my feet, to Stretch my elbows, to Move from side to side, Whilst dreaming about the bed I return to soon And yet my head still droops towards the side. Flat walls on three sides, clean and free of Any form of generous graffiti, Somewhere, much, Like a Hideaway.