Room With A View

Time passes slowly in a pressured room,

Even a room with a view.

A privileged room,

A room with a view.

Only the few who know what to do,

Spend their days in a room with a view.

On the dot of eight o'clock,

A plastic key in a plastic lock.

I pretend not to hear,

Then feign surprise when I open my eyes.

And see them standing there.

'That time already', I always say,

And they alway smile.

On the dot of twelve o'clock,

Another plastic key in the same plastic lock.

I stare out the window not wanting to look.

'It's only me', he always says,

And I always smile and tell him to fuck off.

Normally, on the dot of five o'clock,

I hear a plastic key in the plastic lock.

But not today.

And I don't know what to say.

So I bite my nails and say nothing.

A break from routine, however routine,

Is always obscene.

And if I'm obscene I have to redeem,

Wash myself clean.

With lukewarm water in a plastic sink,

Which always makes me think.

Time passes slowly in a pressured room.