Pretending, 

the streetlights are moonbeams,
the cars waterfalls and forest chatter.                                                                                                                                   

                                                                  When the mountains disappeared,  

                                                                  the speed limit never increased,                                                                       drivers never became more aggressive.

People aren’t rushing here,
their smiles aren’t plastered on for show…

[ I’ve been off living in dreamworld. 
Someone slipped acid in my drink. 

 Nature can’t possibly influence our human, 
the landscape can’t possibly make the person. ]

I must live to be another coffee sold at Starbucks, 
another car whizzing from one Grand Central to the next.

I should work to fill the role,
dress to tell the part.

There is always somewhere to be, 
something to obtain.

 
No time to pause and see the story unfold. 

If I stop pretending,
I’ll lose my place… 
I’ll fail the race…
Oh no…