wander through the week
asking for nothing,

The lonely parks you will
find yourself in,
talking yourself out of fears

and then the nights you'll
walk into, the girls in the
toilets of clubs, in dresses,
all too aware of their smoky
eyeshadows and drunken
they wont ask these moments
to be taken away
even if they do something
stupid in the hours before morning
has slipped
above their heads

The way we write
out our lives

not realising
how inadequate it all will
seem in the end