I watch people fly down the streets they love.
Never stopping, heading towards unknown destinations, unknown personas.
I watch through glass, never able to stop them but I don't mind the view.
Stay still and you'll see what is wrong in this picture, what is right?
My heart races to my brain, just as they.
But just as my heart they don't understand this train of thought, and I wish I couldn't.
So I wake in the early mornings, they aren't still but they appear to be at peace, and my thoughts don't thread how they do when I see their fast catastrophes of compulsive desperate actions.
The sky is still dark in the early mornings, not displaying as anything it is not, though I suppose it is always as it shows itself, just as they.
They aren't much different from me, because just as I, they watch through glass, unable to stop themselves.
