morning people

seas of dessolate faces
encapsulate my commute.
rivers of them
in semi developed newtonian motion
a b line for the cake shop
or for the tripedal exit barrier.
just the steady dub step beat
to guide my feet
and the pigeon instinct homing in on
my lcd haven,
of morning coffee
and various papers
broadness now defined by my lcd companionship
maybe today channel four isn't blocked
maybe today people can speak
maybe today i'll remember my degree equations
and not feel like a retard
design a new skyscrapper
to suck energy from the weather
and make people happy
inspire poeople to think
and live
with one globe in mind
maybe also i'll just wish i was at
home
in loving arms
listening to filthy b lines
fucking
and drinking cheap wines
plotting routes on my map
eating dim sum two hours passed there prime
thin king really come on
are we not etheral.