i don’t like to go outside
but when I do have to leave
the safety of the flat
for beer, cigarettes
and microwave meals
i do so, hesitantly
planning my every move
like a military operation
first, I must avoid
the people in the other flats
i see them come and go
i know their routines
then, the walk along
the busy, dirty city street
my head down
avoiding all eye contact
in the shop, i hastily
purchase my supplies
i shake as I’m being served
stumbling over my words
cursing God
ideally, i want to exist
between the cracks
in the floorboards
out of society
out of circulation
absorbing solitude
behind the door
in a locked room
an existence enclosed
back home, safe
i light a cigarette and sip on a beer
whilst my microwave meal cooks
i look out of the window
people pass
– they don’t know I’m here …