Brake light shards scattered in the brush Dead seeds, a monument to nothing Sun-faded headshots, so easy to forget The aftermath of skidmarks veering to the left A dormant intention chained to the bottom of a sunken spaceship Drifts endlessly out of reach As a silent informant gasps for air Ancestral visions sinking out of frame "Where do they go?" and "Is it all the same?" This callous world beats upon my threadbare heart Should I cut the strings or patch it up? All's well that ends well, but what if ending never comes?