Trip
	The patter of rain on the windshield
	Fucks with my head.
	Yeah right, this trip is forever.
	So i read my Beckett til
	Light is dead;
	Delight, in a journey with others
	who seem unreal
	With their head-
	phones on tight, as they hear
	Distant voices
	Still in the night
	with eyes closed,
	and never hear the sound of
	my smile.