This place, this endless expanse of blue sky
An ocean turned in on itself.
The meager tips of industry piecing through the inverted sea,
The ocassional sound of mechanisms, the distance and the echo.
These walls that divide beating hearts from pulsing veins,
These thoughts, so displaced yet so understood,
Ripped a part.
Wind, as it dances through the leaves,
Other cliche words weaved.
The sun reflects onto the pavement, dry
Glaring into our open eyes.
Shut the door,
Drown the noise.
We’ll fix it.
I will fix it.
We walk out of habit towards the light.
The vast ocean tipped over is our only end.
The only limit.
The last resort.