God I look around.
Everyone is also me.
Who does a thing like this?

God you are a spider web caught in my lashes.
You are that thin.
And without echo.

It makes me laugh to think of you looking on.
As we die for what is weak and will not succeed.
Or pass into brilliant sun.
And move our bodies scurringly along the ground.
Running from the police.

I wonder.
It seems maybe you are quite young.
And once spoke too soon.