From the upcoming book ‘Drifting in and out sleep’
I threw away the key to my apartment, you kept yours; that’s fine.
They tell me every day it’s 2015. Do you realise that makes me nearly 33?
How do you stay sane, when all around you I push pins of chaos into your soul?
What if I were to leave, what if I were to stay?
What happened to that money that I gave to the homeless man at the station the other day. The one who told me the world was about to end.
If only he knew, for me it already has.
I’m putting all these things into a box, lifting the rug and pulling out old dusty forgotten pieces.
The smoke will get into your eyes as the box burns.
Old bits of flesh of a life and a heart too broken and now no longer needed.
You ask me who I am now, I tell you I’m the same person I was before.
You tell me who you think I am. That’s not the person you’ve been dealing with.
Burn this room, it’s got too many memories.