Move.

Buzzing chatter fills the chilled carriage.
I exit the public transport — going home…
pulling out my wallet, the ruler of all,
my card beeps with agreement.

I traverse the streets — to reach my personal transport,
Then realise that I am at bliss.
No one but myself to disturb and be disturbed
the life that is truly desired — by who though?

I contemplate, as I step into the car — transport to wherever I can muster.
Wouldn’t it be better to be like this… or not at all?
Go home. Alone. Be Quiet. Alone.
Or do I crave that for poor intentions? — Uncertainty is all that I hate

I return home, to a full house, no idea where it exists though
I hate existing in such a space
but, when they leave — enjoyment
…No troubles to share or people to care.

What do I really want?