self manufactured silence
as the miles
tick ever downward
to a destination
an ending
the horizon
seems just as far
out of reach
as it always has
when the city
all that remains
are the calcified
concrete overpasses
spread like
the bones of leviathan
under the dim light
of an ever diminshed sun

i see your face
in the fingerprints
of the great architect of
this disaster
a hidden image
pushing me ever on
even when
i am tired
the ache in my skull
one more mile
maybe you will be
waiting for me
beneath the lone tree
the end of everything

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