Solitude

Solitude

 

These walls are getting closer,

they whisper and taunt me,

their shiny wood veneer look mimics my moves.

Slow and calculated.

 

I sing to myself to pass the time,

with a slow beat tapped on the table,

roll another cigarette to burn my throat,

another coffee to nauseate me.

 

It is too far away and nothing to bridge,

trees in their beauty repeat.

I dream of conversation.

And I sing another song.

 

I wished to be alone to collect my thoughts,

but this solitude is blinding,

I twist my neck to pass some time,

now that my song is finished.

 

                            Leppington Caravan Park, 1995