It is what it is. You wake in darkness, forever short on sleep. The alarm clock and the coffee maker have their say, and you stumble on. Nothing before you but another broken day, nothing to long for save the next too short night of sleep. Your reasons are simple, as far as reasons go. Life abides all manner of insults and demotions, life endures the epic fail and the daily grind. You continue to perpetrate all your most glaring errors. You continue, despite every evidence to the contrary.
Things are what they are. Most of the moon is out there now, shining its stupid shine. Most of the stars are hidden behind a crushed glass haze that hangs about heaven. There is nothing to do about it, supposing that you could. It is just the night time sky and a sudden turn in the weather. The days of rain with a hole worn through. The warming trend billowing away through a break in the storm. The proof seeps in through every lapse and gap.
What is there to wait for? What is there worth the want? These paper trails and kangaroo courts. These slabs of steel and pads of plastic. You break your skin without even a flicker of notice. You bleed red into the hushed air and wasted light. You are another accumulation of accidents. You are that last sign just before the road ends at the missing bridge and the harrowing precipice. A marker before that last fall. The answer to these days of emptying clouds and bitter dreams.