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picture this:

on a night like this,
you are cut and injured,
and you're so lightheaded you can't even see.

this is the only thing keeping you from falling apart:
your two friends who are with you,
one sitting to the left of you,
one on the right
in a vacant subway car.

you know that it's either too early or too late,
and a mere 12 hours ago it was crowded with people of all ages,
races,
blood types and hair colours.

and then you look down at your trembling fingers and legs,
you know you spent too much money again,
and what are you going to do about all this workworkwork and no more
no more play?
you're still speaking to them
but you're no longer thinking about the words


then you realize it's better than going home alone,
where you'll stay for the next couple of days,
again, workworkwork and no absolutely no fucking play.

it'll be like sleeping,
absolutely no soul in sight.

then ask yourself:
why the fuck is this a home?
what do you go home to?