The streets are ever entranced by the vacant that lives in this world, awakening mischief of mind and liver to crawl where once stood out such people hoping for a tragic paradox of simple lives.
The pain felt isn't enough to feel your interior, and the unbalanced sidewalk paths will eat away at every step forward. Until limb after limb takes its turn on leaving you behind.
The time tick shutters soft, yet whispers in trance a prayer for souls that do not carry a beat. Hollowed bodies seeking to live a life before us in the houses we stay in.
Walls sink in steady drip onto the floor we stood, where stable minds tackle through the early hours. A non motive transcendence of a broken watch now turned forward in time.