Pressure Speedings

Path is narrowing itself, limiting my urge to escape. I'm losing sane, crashing ends. Sometimes, I just wish I could wake in a land nobody exists, plant some crops, count some stars. If I could hasten my pace, I might see less. If ever, though.

I witness human greed, so much that warmth slips far too much.

Smile is an expression of happiness, or a mask for grievance? I questioned the Great.

The path of certainty became so vague. Blurred vision screening for exits, instead of sensible paths.

They say I have nothing to gain no more, why do I still question? Human greed or Crashing Ends?