Between what was and what next.
Routine cradles me, secure,
Against the uncertainty
That swirls, outside, always.
I control the climate in here,
Even if the cost might be higher than I’d like sometimes.
I can afford the isolation, the desperate detachment,
The yearning that no-one hears silently echoing off the walls.
As long as the swirl stays out there.
You see it everywhere, the dead gaze and vacant disregard.
It’s hard to care, so you can hardly blame them.
Just looking directly at someone feels risky,
Like ‘dangling both feet over the cliff edge’ dangerous,
Something from which no good can come.
It’s just not worth it.
No, I’m not hurting, don’t be silly!
I really enjoy the ‘me’ time,
Really helps me to recharge,
Gives me a chance to think.
Actually I really needed it to be honest.
Seriously, don’t worry about me.
Then a flicker of light, occasionally,
Blinding for a moment, a memory
Of its brilliance the only trace,
Of the opportunity that exists
Outside. What might it be like
If you could find a way to tolerate the brightness.
Though it seems to be dark all the time,
Or is that just me?