The well-heeled soul

They’re all running around worrying

About the next minute the next mile

Hardly breathing hardly daring who and what they are or where

Totally immersed in the struggle of daily grinding, teeth to be cleaned, trains to be caught

Colds to be treated and lots and lots of

Hunger, anguish, thirst, despondency and despair in the air.

Smoked glass panes and bicycle lanes and everywhere the main idea of a rhyme we cannot fathom

How often do they stop and look
Beyond the frame beyond the shame
Driven and pulled, pushing and lulled into a sense of being without end
Sending messages of hopelessness and senselessness and of an ever-turning wheel that steals the minutes and the half-digested memories

Sitting on the settee, trousers clinging to the knee, I tie my laces, to call a truce

Forsooth they never told me it would be like this

I was one of them am one of them will be one of them and yet not
quite the same, seeing, fearing, sensing farther on the outside the emptiness surrounding our too-filled bubbles of trouble

How to get to there from here

How to think and be sincere

I would live in the moment only I don’t have time

Rushing from dime to crime to sign,

symbols clashing in my mind

Eye, I, aye, ail

Who will have mercy on my whole?