Those blocks. Look the way they always have. Withdrawn.
Cemented together. Nobody ever asks. About their nights.
They crumble under tense pressure. The weight of the sky will destroy them.
Shrieking. With unquenched thirst. To the selfish clouds.
The birds that have retired on their structures. Can no longer fly.
This touch. Will lead to another. Until oblivion invades.
And expands into the fractured bricks. Voided and sealed.