1/1/2023

the moon has not risen today; she has forgotten how

so our wheels grind against yellow light, tinted by the ground.

they bear blinding fruit- those concrete trees- their soft white noise a mechanical breeze-

so choice upon choice we ought to make, pushed by the eyes of great machines

yet only now do I wonder where these roads are taking me.

I look around, met only by my reflection, and glares from strangers unseen-

they do not know, there is no help- we must live on within this scene

I fear it now, and yet it comes- please spare me, let me dream