London and Mouses

Victoria couch station does not go To sleep. It's not even a one third of an aesthetic But poets make frogs into princes so ... I see the becoming in change. The Comfort of being taken to a Known destination not needing To know the way. It happens only in travels like that. I see the becoming in repetition. A Man sweeping the floor yet another time. He is watching people like mouses. Running About their business not knowing Why. A constant of life in a place as busy as an Ant house. This place does not go to sleep. Lights colour it's windows To scare away the ghosts of rest. Stillness is a demon unable to possess. A mouse, after mouse, after mouse. But what happens when A mouse snaps out Of this ?