[Split]

in your studio uptown, it is quiet at last.
set your cell to silent, duck down,
try and relax. the work week will wait up.
the stress has been killer. perfectly mundane,
and eternally painless. bland french vanilla Folgers,
hand-pressed manila folders, the commuter line anthem
diffuses by stand-ins for the youth that you and I danced with-
how can this be? how things have changed.
this town seems the same but i only see strangers
and street signs feel foreign. the last stop
shouldve been mine. the next off is a crooked design
of wooden relief, and I hesitate at the door,
this is the turning point, the medication is warm,
but the bath is drawn and my patience is worn
and the next song echoes with a playful reprieve.
luxury's subtle, but comfort is amazingly cheap.
ive bought myself time and didnt save the receipt...
slipped into slumber just to wait for the dream