shaken 
saltine splinters 
windless rafts on icy rivers 
sain doom's coming 
as a shearing force from all directions 
nere to think 
what came from below:
all along, it was all for show.
and that's where the screaming lives
stretched out static in the wake of the crash 
a yoke of suffering borne on into forever 
spiraling that fateful, anguished moment 
flattening against the event horizon 
of a new, fresh hell:
we are survived, 
marble-mouthed and rolling 
paralyzed by the frostbite and the drowning 
like it was the shiny and new
marrowhite promise of tomorrow
again and again 
and 
again and again 
and 
again and again 
and 
again and again 
; 
but for certain 
so am I.