Struggling a bit with everything really, at the moment. So forgive lack of anything. It feels likely I will have to return to some sort of medication for my stupid head, which appears to be broken. Anyway, I owe you a poem. This concludes the Comfort trilogy. I will try to avoid writing a Discomfort trilogy.
The Comfort of Strangers III
Bubble-wrapped in half a yard of space,
passing souls in anonymity.
The city saraband without a face;
we dance untouched in equanimity.
And into windows I will gently stare,
to learn the secrets of normality;
a matchgirl almost happy with a share
of someone else’s warm reality.