Leave a Message After the Bleak

It's been a long year outstretched with the same-still sands of forgotten time. The grains of which still swirl and ensure that any progress is surely just illusory. The wheels of tomorrow no longer turn. They hiccup and flail in a juddering no-pace. Get used to the congestion of non-continuance.

A tinny ringing cries out in the amber distance. But no one is coming to answer. The operator has taken your dime. And your message will never be retrieved. The rings resonating at a deaf midnight.