empty lakes and
barren streets try
to keep me inside

detached from the
land of detachment
tired eyes cold coffee

sun of light but no
warmth the constant
buzz of renovation

call it limbo call it
boring it stands here
the middle of the end

a running projector with
no film left the encroaching
white space passive sadness

screams are not heard they
are never voiced but they
are there under the material