and now there's only empty space
lonely eyes
haggard face,

mothers ruin in a mug
I take a slug and
though not lead it
smacks me squarely in
the head
which is the
empty space inside
the haggard face.

All this and more and yet not me
not sure and never was
or was it forever meant
if ever to be
and empty space is
Schrodinger's preserve or
so
I'm led to believe.