Numbers
Numbers matter so much to people.
Math.
A scale.
Competition.
Money.
Time.
Numbers aren't even objects.
You can't hold a number.
We rank people, low class, middle class, high class, all by numbers.
Girls rank themselves by numbers
"She weighs 10 lbs less than me"
In competition the lower number the better, we all want first place.
When in the end its only a number.
Why why why
do we care
so much?

What is it about staring through a window of a moving vehicle that makes it so dramatically surreal. Maybe the window represents a barrier between reality and dreams. Our thoughts hiding deep in the sky waiting to be plucked from the clouds. Knowing that once you stop gleaming into this portal of innate consciousness you have to either take flight to your dreams and aspirations and take hold of life's ultimate achievability of happiness. Or be content with reality and remain behind the pane of glass that gave you a glimpse of your own reflection of where you want to be. Maybe it's the ability to see the stars at night while pretending you're in a movie. The final scene where there is a happily ever after and whatever music is playing creates the perfect setup for what could be the best picture of your life. Or maybe it's the constant idea of moving and visually understanding new things around you. The idea of something new every mile sparks an interest of curiosity in your mind of what if's and could haves. Where do I want to go, where do I want to be. The thing that people tend to miss is you get chances everyday to be on the other side of that window. So next time you arrive back to reality to wherever you are in this world remember you can always change your destination.

There once was a mime
Who committed a crime
He spoke just one time

But people out for a walk
They heard him talk
Down by the corn stalk

Then the mayor said
We will make him dead
Off with his head

He ran as fast as he could
The mime knew he would
Be killed if he should

He came across a fairy
Her name was Little Mary
She smelt of strawberry

Silently, he started to cry
The fairy wondered why
People wanted him to die

She took his hand
But he could understand
It was time for another land

The mime was never found
For he lives under the ground
Where he never makes a sound

You may think I‘m just a mime.

My tongue says words of silence as if lame.
My face expresses no mood but a placid sheet.
I give you a serene look from head to feet.

You may think your thought is right.
But, I can tell you are so wrong.

My heart is bursting with the endless rue
That you left me out of the blue,
And went for another man.

So, I’m not the mime that you think.
I’m a murdered man though I blink.
I’m a murdered man with breath; Deep inside, I’m tragically dead
As I was mentally killed by you
Who don’t feel any shame,
And think I’m just a mime.

I shall stay away from you
For the rest of my time.
Ms.******

- Stephen Hugs