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From my window
I follow the planes
in and out of the Birmingham airport.
I wonder
where are all those people heading to.

Beer buzzed.
Hours before going to work.
I blame it on nothing.
Nothing is guilty of anything.
Rather...

I try to stand for a bit
but my battered feet are stinging.
I should move.
I should be moved.

I put on my angel uniform
and I go to work.
Tranquil and sighing,
I find myself to be a symetry
of questions without answers
and answers not asked for.

The radio mumbles something about 50 shades.
This body mimics some excitement.
Its mind, void of it.
Completely void.