.Watch out, man.

.Watch out, man.

Ok, a tower’s being built,

starting with the top though, up in the sky,

toss stone blocks like comic anvils,

dead centre on our heads;

we flailing limbs in the sewers.

Whittle wooden beams

of the ceilings for the floors

of this tower upside down.

With windows double glazed

to contain our vanity,

shutting out the cold and my humility;

it’s beating against the glass.

A low hum next to my ear

as I warm by the fire.

My old friends have grown wiser

and sheltered themselves

from my failed humanity.