• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 08

The View from a Glass Window

So full of it.

Falling heads,
respite in the loss of minds.
Run, my sanity,
heels at your wake.
Shoot and aim for the tartar roads,
break the flight,
and search-
This is the cream of your quest.

Fallen heads,
Despite the loss of minds.
Saviours, fighters, broken homes,
Rising suns; moon as one.

Sewn in the cement, are
garbs of the beggars, united
and thoroughly divided,
by worth.

So full of it.
So very full of it.

But I ask myself, still-
‘Don’t you want somebody to love?’