This is going to be a bad day

Eyeing up a bench

A bit of solid mass to sit upon and escape the cold

And my ridiculous self

Arrived too early and now I’m confused, anxious

I retreat into a toilet to escape a self that can never be escaped from

And it’s tough knowing I did this to me

A sort of torture you don’t imagine you’d put yourself through

And it’s hard to see where the wiring went wrong

Where the brain fell short

And why the calamities burst forth

You’re late as ever and I’m in a cubicle

Outside it’s chilled, like that bottle of babycham we left chilled in the fridge for months

Seeking solace in a loo

Because I don’t know what else to do

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