Concrete and Clay

Well I bought a pen...

7am -8.30pm in an airport, I have finished the hip-flask, everywhere and one is "NO SMOKING", I have no pants on. I tried to sleep earlier, phoned my mum. The airport is confusing and wild, cold and boring. I bought some mild seven cigarettes, a cheese croissant which hid ham in its sweet buttery layers. I gagged at the taste of shiny pink ham. Everything is meaty. I have no idea what time it is. I'm looking forward to getting on a plane again. A rainforest grows in the middle of the seating area, surrounded by glass, earlier it was like a monsoon, the trees bent water was falling from the sky in skip loads. The forest was made of giant house plants, a large automated water fall completes my view.

Looking outside I realise I've no idea how long I've been awake. I didn't sleep Sunday and left for Heathrow at 8ish. A strange feeling, butterflys in my stomache, lots of thoughts, changing feelings to London, same topics and mediums but no sense of urgency, no blurred edge to every angle. No external parties, relationships exisiting virtually, too far to be touched. Or heard.
My eyes begin to hurt, I think I need a cigarette. I taste ham when I burp. Some girl with blonde hair looks away every time I look up. I need to buy some pants.