London.

18.09

My eyes are sunken,

and I'm picking at the skin on my right thumb.

I stare at nothing, although

I hear absolutely everything.

The light I see is not heaven,

at least I don't think it is. 

My misfortune would have been vanquished by now.

And I pray that the blur from my poor eyesight, 

covers me entirely.

Maybe that will help me settle more.

19.09

The Girl On The Train,

My father on my right,

My mother in front.

The touching on my leg,

And the unbearable heat on my skin,

My lungs are finding this difficult now.

We've moved now, 

and my breathing is at ease,

But I can't help loose it when my eyes find the scenery outside.

It is beautiful.

And I feel my stomach rumble with excitement. 

London, I shall be arriving.

I can smell home too,

held by the pages that I'm currently writing on.

I do not miss it.

21.09

Colours.

Vibrating from my chest,

Painting down my body,

A dream coat of happiness...

My jacket feels so permanent now.

And I'm somewhat not afraid to release the hold on it.