Dichotomy of disbelief and reality leave my heart behind. Consciousness is streaming out of my ears, falling like useless raindrops down the rusty, splintered city drains. The drains, the dams, the waterways, water, the ocean; freedom. But never again will I see what you meant. You, the so-called crystals that once coated the barren lands, shining like crystals in the heat of day. Yes, you; the blue green tinted waters rolling amongst the crystals, fitting the epitome of nature. Beauty is not immutable. Yet today, I see only a lack of sea. Metal. Iron. Steel. Stealing my heart, I am falling back to yesteryear. The sky, the trees, the breeze. Breeze, a term only faintly analogized to the whiplash from the trains and cars and buses today. Dichotomy feels like pain, ripping my ideals from ideology. Where is the sky?