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?