ONE OF THOSE DAYS

A couple of hours after I'd sketched out this post's poem I read an article which described how a number of people believe that our reality is a simulation created by others, presumably future humans.
It sort of fits with this poem.

it was one of those days

an i'm living in a novel type of day

that brought the realisation he was a minor character whose only function was to be bumped off by a more interesting protagonist an act that will illuminate a particular facet of his killer's personality

such days are not good

his head rests on the cold window pane

it is 4:13am not yet light

he will wander through today's chapter carrying a sharp sliver of sleeplessness

I have no idea if those people are correct and to be honest I do not care.
I think the myths we tell each other about the world we live in mirror our technological development. 
Let's just give thanks and praises for being here.

To that end I leave you with one of my favourite singers Martha Tilston. She's touring at the moment.