The Wait

The wave of sleep washed my up on the bleak shore of the awake half remembered dreams vanished and left behind a blank canvas. I was alone with the grey mass of viscosity framed by boredom. and I had no whisky or cigarettes to hide behind in my elderliness pleasures long gone….The futures didn´t reveal itself saw I´, not a seer, the past was an endless series of failure and I could not recall anything in my life that had given me pleasure of lasting kind it had all been so erratic, laughter mingled with contempt of a circus clown with a red nose. looked out of the window and the sleeping town I noticed some windows had light, and the 24 hour petrol station was open they sold cigarette and booze too, put were out of happiness and peace of mind packed in healthy disposable green bags. Switched on the TV, Russia had occupied itself and people there were jubilant; and they were looking for a plane that fell from the sky a week ago, the world changes but slowly.