this mouthful of concession
can only be relieved
for moments -
released
back into the air
for only as long
as we can
keep from breathing.
but as days meander
like jigsaw pieces
finding their place
amidst shambles,
the whole
becomes eerily discernible -
like water on stone,
we land, only to be
split
at the jagged end
of the future.
and oh! we were once
dressed with things to come,
with a hope
of one day,
maybe someday
becoming a sum
greater than its arts.
but what was painted
is insufficient -
just cartoon tunnels
drawn on walls.