I stopped searching

The day would drag on, and I would be brushed
By compassed steps

I would observe
Intent is blindness
And inertia exposure

All existed in a purpose of their own
And an idle pair of eyes followed them

There are no voyeurs
Only exhibitionists

Perpetual witness,
The space I do not fill with action
They take up, shaped by an unseen mould

Those eroded by human contact
Stop by me for a moment

And, for a moment
Solitary confinement seems
Artificial

By an underground highway
Society compressed into a glassed cornea,
The mobilization of autonomous cargo

Wretchedly self-aware
And shadowless as men

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