Thick, heavy hanging air,
Breathing it recycled, used up,
And yet pleasurable, warm, comfortable, contrasts to biting chill
Winter seems so alien.
Hot sticking and baking
Heat burning down, charring, blitzing, drying
We long for cold, for cool, for wind and yet not for rain
Summer seems so alien
Constant rain, so it seems
Flicking betwixt the charred and frozen
Spring seems so alien.
Brown leaves pretty, at least you thought,
Until they start to rot.
Slides to winter slowly and coldly
Autumn seems so alien
The changing breezes, the fickle desires
A world I cannot control
The lights go down when I want them up
Outside seems so alien
Stuffed up chair, full of foam
Electricity flowing in.
Heating, water, amenities
Here I am at home.