in the broken house
a stifled silence greeted him.
long stretches of blur
it's a life!
smoke up,
drink up,
live to die.
the growing sense of unease,
numbed down.
a functional dystopia
a life lived in a hurry
to get to the end.
to make another beginning
or so he thought.
the stifled silence screamed.
nothing moved.
bob said,
the answers were blowing in the wind.
nothing moved.
when you didn't ask the questions,
the answers didn't matter.
numbness
vegetative
insipid
a life to live.
and nothing moves.
day after day, day after day
we struck no breadth no motion,
as idle as a painted ship
on a painted ocean
water, water everywhere
and all the boards did shrink
water, water everywhere
nor any drop to drink
a wry smile plays.
tomorrow is another day.
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