to whatever approaching

i keep a right mind on what i enjoy.
with winter coming,
jittery, cold and drunk in quiet rooms.
weekdays with no television,
no newspapers,
no voice to bring warning.
just a women of like mind
allowing herself to me as if in guilt,
whilst absurdity mounts the window.
sometimes it's good at two in the afternoon.
to recline in what you have,
allow yourself to think you deserve it;
the freedom, the woman
whilst waving one hand towards the wall,
and whatever out there in darkness,
somewhere, slowly