good off my shift,
I saunter somewhere
to be someone
other than me.
I am not the same person
I once was;
I am enjoying compassion
in motes of dust, rising.
but I want to vanish
to be somewhere cold and kept in snow,
because sadness is better
in a fine gone grey world.
believe me dead
when I sweat in sorries
that I have cultivated
and kept safe.