Overcast Alienation: James Adamson

Passing a hand in front of a face

Walking on paths of uniform concrete

Trees decidedly budding with grey bark

Greyness of birds in flight

An internal depth crossing oceans

Into dry jokes of motion sickness

Wondering if its real

The way deep days move ,leaving tracks

Of stopping and moving

Clouds with IQ points better at chess

So much they can’t teach

Viens fanning out from the trunk

The trees pulse with the undead

Like brush cuts on military morons

Or used like sweaty old women at the horse track

Wondering, we see aliens land

But mere squirrels seem alert and greater

Einstein telling lies because you have to figure it out yourself

A generation absolving its authority just to laugh

Sitting at a McDonalds with Tesla coffins going by

Hoping friends seed their limitations

Because brilliance walls along super greyness

And poverty sees the truth

That driving everywhere only spreads life like past design fads

Pink and grey can’t be run away from

And it hits like a picture

That nothing can surely be taught

Because any dimension missing leaves one

And we piece together our minds like a projector and film

Things keep happening

Everyone disappearing, suddenly there

Reaching out with a sarcastic smile 

Slightly desperate for an overcast sky to say something

Countless babies born under the watch of a nurse

Therapists meeting someone they don’t want to help

Power in the hands of a steering wheel

Suddenly the lesser is greater

The weather makes sense

It is out of touch 

To see the difference