He went to work.

He came straight back home.

Gave up his daylight-dreams of improvement
to the comforts of deranged sense & sleep,
& told himself that he would never do it again,
that he would stop thinking about it.

He didn’t.


She went to work.

She stayed out in the night.

Not wanting to return home to the stillness, to the nothing,
to the oppressive sound of silence,
she told herself that escape was found in oblivion, & that
she would never return again.

She did.


On Saturday, they were no-one.

On Sunday sunlight glided through the windows,
dust motes floated through the air
& the sound of birdsong
rose above the noise of the city.

It all became too much.

So, at different times,
in different places,
they both went outside.

They looked up to the sky
& something that felt like peace
perverted by corrupted innocence
filtered out everything
they had ever taken for granted.

They sensed beauty in the periphery.

They heard noises,

smelled fumes & perfume,

saw beasts & machines.

It all became too much, so

they both turned turned away

& went inside again



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