Weeping, slate hued sky
Icing the morning moisture
Clinging to my skin

Gritty sandy eyes
Pasted to the red numbers
In immigrant hell

Warm, welcoming home
But still the chill sinks deeper
The end is not near

I woke up before dawn this morning and biked to the town hall where I found myself briefly underneath a small mob of flailing fellow immigrants before emerging with ticket number 2.  Everything went smoothly but my head is pounding from lack of sleep (only about 4 hours) and I’m suffering permanent chill from sweating profusely in the cold and rain.  And it’s not even 11 am yet.

Oh and go read yesterday’s post cause it needs more comments [insert sad little pleading face here].

Then, when you’re done with that you can click here for more haikus.