I am a home of incongruities.
And while I sit here for the train,
I am unsure if I’m coming or going.
Because I am sure that there is something.
Something else that I am meant to do,
but unfortunately, I can’t tell you what it is.
But I can tell you-
I find most people and things infuriating.
And chances are
I like that homeless man
more then I like you.
I don’t trust you
and I don’t want to hear it.
I get nervous when the cashier hands me change
and NO, you can’t have one of my cigarettes.
This is harder then I thought.
Routine doesn’t sit well with me,
and so I fight it off.
Even though everyday I find myself,
stuck in it.
I have every intention of leaving.
I have every intention of going to figure out
What exactly that thing is I’m supposed to be doing.
But the train is here.
And even though I don’t know
If I’m coming
or if I’m going-
I get on.
Because, really though,
What else is there for me to do?