It’s about changes in space and lengthening time.
It’s about doors that fail to open and mis-directed signs.
It’s pine cones in pockets just to fill the void.
Taking breaks around the building, just to check the noise.
It’s about altering affectations in the hope of better ways
But failing at the first and leaving overplayed.
It’s when the exit sign flickers, and reflects below the rake
When I’m sat with long exposures and documenting tape.
It’s about sweeping circular routes for pointless cups of tea.
About a secret on a post-it I’d rather no one see.
It’s closeness in the first place and distance in the last.
Nothings that turn to episodes and slip into the dark.
It’s about rushing and not stopping until it’s too far late
And the marble stairs are empty because I failed to wait.