0699

I wake, enthusiastic, for my dissapointment.

Rise, to greet this new day, with contempt.

It rains. Grey. Against the yellow

roomlight, that casts it's dull shadows,

from ashtray and coffee cup. Stop.

Roll another cigarette. Watch the rain,

feel the grey. Put pen to paper,

in a hopeless attempt, to capture this

inner and outer despair.

This dirty yellow light is all there is,

between me and that awful, beckoning, grey.

 

Fight back. Pick up my camera. Write.

"grey". On the window, in the condensation,

with my finger. Get this where I can

deal with it. See it. Touch it. This grey.

The shutter, opens, closes. I have it.

It cant hurt me now.

Done