"...with tired eyes and tired minds...we slept."

Casual chains and plausible accounts
act as interpretive deviations to your
significance of freedom.

With both feet stuck in this pragmatic ground
you draw clear representations
of cranes and linear skyscrapers
while laboring for your happiness
to rot the soil.

Personal preservation retires to miserable
existence and blurs important distinctions between
who and what you are.

Latitude
and
Longitude
stabling your stance.

You tilt your head back and sigh
as you escape
into exile.