In a perpetual fall sideways.

Looking for a pillow to catch my head.

But the fall is limitless.

34 degree of violent winds dancing on my skin.

Watching faces of centre flying by.

They promised warheads and gave nuclear families.

Kids asleep peacefully.

My generation was born with no future and we pass on no less.

Therefore I cannot sit straight.

Midcity feathers finally.

Perhaps there may just be, possibly a pillow waiting, inviting to finally endlessly sleep, with a cat on my face.

Who needs to breath.