where do we go from here?
how do we carry on?
i can't get beyond the questions
clambering for the scraps in the shatter of us collapsed
that cuts me with every could-have-been

pain on pain on play, repeating
with the backup makeshift life in waiting.

everybody says: time heals everything
but what of the wretched hollow?
the endless in-between?
are we just going to wait it out?

there's nothing to see here now,
turning the sign around;
we're closed to the earth 'til further notice
stumbling cliché case
crumpled and puffy-faced
dead in the stare of a thousand miles