Resting in the rift
of January’s frozen stillness,
where ephemeral light
breaks through the rooftop's
halogenic heart strings.
Above me,
the gray-streaked
shyness of the treetops,
and my feet drift through
the fragile maze of asphalted
spring crops.
From afar, clausthrophobic crowds
press on
toward a remnant of living transience,
stretched across a pale blue ground,
fluttering jade-green,
the bleak expression of the working man's transgressing weariness.
And where I still went to school today,
fatigue
lingers on.
And where I still went to function for society
fatigue
carries on.

© fey (25/01/25)