When you see the arrow coming it has a softer strike, and I can see one clearly aimed right between my eyes. I can enfuture myself and hear him say it: give me the key it is mine, I paid the rent. And what can I do? I can’t afford this place on my salary. I can’t afford any place on my salary. I remember clearly that bitch who does payroll telling me, when her mistake lost me my funding, I should go live in a shelter. Good thing I got a TA, or I’d be living under a staircase somewhere. Well, with what I make that might as well be my next home. No. Instead I do what I do now; I go up and down other people’s staircases. When I think of the scheming and the senselessness I put up with my mouth fills with a salty bitter taste. I smell toast. No. I’ll keep my honor and keep to myself. Exile. Time is screaming toward me and I had better be prepared for the blow.