The trees whisper to me
In the cool autumn wind;
They comfort me within
And let me walk amongst them
Freely and effortlessly.

The buildings shout at me
Echoes from the roaming gas animals;
They make me fear myself
And block me from places I want to go;
They are the roots of insecurity within me;
Posters of praised artificial pseudo-perfection,
Draped on billboarded roof-sides
That give me a place to find death quickly.