Wonderful fire, candles in the windows,
seen from way far out.
Hills full of houses, full of people,
full of bad ideas,
making mistakes against perfection
in the stars.
They have run out of room
for all the failed attempts.
They cover everything like they were
skull around a broken brain.
The pain remains no matter how you hide it.
The day is like a cage and we’re just locked
inside it.
Cage
Teleporting Typewriter 