You bump down the 7B subway and you ignore the place, absent of you. One step brings you closer to your gray destination, that office that executes work 'til tomorrow. The world does its spinning, but you don't really notice. You don't feel the pull of the sun or the moon. You just wade in your alcohol, repeating another week, under and over, until you're never satisfied.
You can't see beyond all the buildings or the people that sell you things or trudge along their way. You stretch out your legs or you tuck in your gut just to fit all the blueprints of modern-day beauty. You don't try to ripple the waters, shake the ground, or bite the strife. Here comes another compliment, people with empty words, trying not to ripple waters, shake the floor, or bite it down.
When you were little, the landscape was colorful; your backyard was natural, not part of the taxes. You wanted to touch whatever was beyond the fence 'til Mommy told you just to stay. You wanted to grow up to be a princess, now you want to go back and be a princess. And, love wasn't questionable, and life didn't hang on the coat hook you kept by your door. Who once was connected to butterflies or destined to fly, now shuffles down the 7B subway, a place so absent of anything 'you'.