What can be worse,
trying to,
**** some-thing,
beautiful.
That thing,
is a conscious
of another
being.
I know
I mean nothing
as the fan,
blows me to
some-where.

Trouble is it
always gets me
and in the lifts
as wind shifts,
will always speak,

Angels are
humbling
and left are
just 4 words,
the hidden,
and arrested.