People Were Yelling But Of Course You Couldn’t Help Them

Where gull white steam and moth black smog coalesce in starry bedchamber. West is the landless sea and east is a seasonless desert never passed. And below, a gravel path is littered with those who couldn't walk anymore

A refugee chain trudges off the horizon. Dry your eyes with this steel wool, march off every injury. In the instance of failure you will return to the end of the line. People were yelling, but of course you couldn't help them