Temperamental tools don’t disappoint me as I look ahead, a 5:30 skyline and a sinking sense of dread, this bridge has become more symbolic in my dreams, my apocalyptic imagination guides me to the scene, and I’m not as lost as I hoped I’d be, an unconscious sense of direction is guiding me, but it’s clear that I’m here for a very different reason, I refused to queue up, yet they parade their expertise and I’m sold. Last night I woke up terrified, blue lights were floating around my walls, only to later realise, it’s just an ambulance on a late night call, a grim 2 a.m. reminder of my own mortality, I only wish that I could find a way to accurately describe, the effect that this has on me. A canopy of comfort crumbles, helplessly I watch, soaked but I’m not drowning, I’m enamoured to this porch, your company is warmth enough we talk the night away, a towel and some kind words keeping me afloat today, and when I’m like this I can’t cope with myself, and I realise that this is probably hell, and I apologise, oh how I do, I’m just thankful that you’re prepared to soldier through to the end. I take a walk down by the river, but the night before it breached its banks, and now the path’s absolutely covered with branches and leaves, and I can barely get past and I’m in heaven, I’m in heaven, this is the best thing I have ever seen, I see no concrete, see no buildings, it’s like I’m walking through a dream, “Like the darkness of closed eyes on an August afternoon…”

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