underneath everything
is an intense sadness
rather like eating
a rather good bread
only to discover
the crust at the base
has absorbed
the taste
of plastic
and you’ve
eaten it now
rather like
walking down a suburban street
an autumn night
streetlights dim
an ordinary rain
the wind always sings
whatever the bluster
whatever the squall
a minor key
rather like
the city scenery outside
tower blocks and sky
all tinged
you know the rest
i cannot return
i will not be welcome
the final argument
was fatal
i want to
this is silly
i was never welcome
not in this century