head in the clouds

they tell me i've got places to go.
i listen to acoustic covers of
over-sexualized eighties gods and
wondering if beethoven ever wanted lyrics
for his lyricism
there are rocks in my shoes
and pits in my chest. i have been eaten away.
i would like to recycle, to save the earth
but it's hard to have more than
one dream. there are electric trains
round-trip flights, automobiles
but they are all wrong.
why do they tell me i've got places to go?
all i have are places to be.