What is left of the day is seeping through my fingers, the ticking clock shows Singapore time, a quaint abstract i keep from my travels...Leaving on a jet plane by Peter Paul and Mary slips in and out of my mind, i shrug as the night is a colour of pitch....the soft red light bulb above my head slips through my vision softly folding its self in my imagination, after the big rash of red bricked urban Goth buildings i have trod through today whilst carrying my work saddle hunched across my back beneath the concrete sky...
I am surprised that i am here for second day running perhaps this could be a habit....Ooooo...i think..but i know myself the lazy spec in my panties knows only to well how to close doors and whisper...got yur.......but for now life is as i bid the world good night...