i heard a record and it opened my eyes:

and the last chapter was written at the top of the stairs
mused by a memory that never existed
and an empty space that was never filled
all wishes, were hopeless lies by the time the last word was written
there will be no refund
there will be no champagne
there will be nothing

surrounded by sounds moving through motions
to hear the voice would break into
these traces of a friendship found in
cigarette butts and empty bottles
all at their end accompanied by a faded photograph
there is nothing (filling the space in a world too familiar).
there was nothing.