the change in the bottom of their pockets it's more than I have to my name.

two sides of a window pane dry on the outside wear the wind beats in,

semi grinned into the dim reflection that combines with the crowds of people

in the streets, they carry their own bags of pleasures and sadness

Over the oak trees I can see the city in the distance.

But I'm in the thickets of it and I don't feel conscious

numb would me a word for it all but I can't feel what I'm thinking.

taking the longest walks just to prolong making it to my destination

I can see the ground beneath me and I'm standing still,

with my pen slowly bleeding through these tattered jeans I wear.

If the sand by the sea were reflections of life

standing still watching the tide come in to build you up and pull you away.