the sun goes by, and it sets
as we lie and ruminate
in empty rooms inside our heads
and the days come late
while the nights draw near
we run in circles on the hands of fate
as we eat our fears
one by one
the moon goes by, and it sets
the days are gone
nothing but whispered threats
but we draw blood
and it drips
on soil and mud
during crashed road trips
to a destination that dies
as we grow close
and it splits,
divides
crossroads.