we march under overpasses much too low for our own concrete heads
w/ so little time left over to spend any of it thinking about our future
mistakes & what we'll never do about them.. a journey without
a destination, a marketed smile without a cost:
these are things that just don't matter (in a long series of ends..)

& you can tower all you want over zen skies, I will not answer the call
that is expected of me - change(s) flattened out the horizon & clarity
is my new virus, my new vision, my new void to fill up to the rim..

I have seen & felt the distance that is thrown on me once
that blue sign is crossed.. I want to shout at #11 for ages
because we can't keep being strangers in such a familiar place..

we can't keep being strangers around such familiar faces (anymore)