Revelations II

In bars and streets, a screamed confession
in my head, at least – that I don’t want to be here
that I long for sun on my skin, for books
in my hands. For words to come
but they cannot, as long as I am here

In wine glasses and late night lock-ins
I realise, often, where I want to be
and it is not in the world of the night-time
worker, but in the land of the living
of the 8am library slog, of a run by the sea

Save me from evenings
and from late night lock-ins


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