What was and what probably should have absolutely been, if only – mysteriously mixed up in holy ghosts of tomorrow’s favourite faded nearly dream. Never happened, not in this her stinging, repugnant insistence upon pretending it is all alright and all of the way okay again. She bothers to hold her sweet settling breath and starts to begin at bargaining with something so very specific – the ghostly, ghastly in-between, where things could have, perhaps should have amounted to something which they didn’t. Wearing a face filled with ill-prepared make-believe she turns the exhausted car key and sprints at the shape of the evening – eerie, arguably perfect in a most inexplicable manner of standing upright for its own separate self and singularly glistening.

And the comfortable child lies a little further inside – belted, bolstered and smiling within gurgling fits of dribble and mountains of enlarged happiness – never just simply contentment, that’ll only ever be the mother. Drowning all of the outside noises out, they sing a fine tune of fond forgiveness, forged forgiveness for all of the tremendous things that they are about to fail at achieving…

Sliding doors and, suddenly, one comes off by the swipe of another angry car’s perturbed drunkard nature – and a middleman appears decidedly angry, so angry in fact that his piercing state of inebriated glare steals baby’s state of smile and transforms it to that of upside-down awareness. Baby’s were never aware, and as the metal falls away from its face of this quarter-of-a-million-pound metallic instrumentation so too does mother’s loving nature, heart-sworn concentration, attempting harder still to make the moment matter for once, just battling – just damn right once in the makings of her make-believe universe.

Of thirsty people and quarrelling emotions standing disruptively still, if only. Eerily once more – til the car smashes itself against an uninviting side of an otherwise untouched, untainted wall, concrete and brought back to life while the ones before it die enthusiastically inside. Outright stretched, stressed, and vilified – blood riddles and pours, mother deliriously left to swearing atop of broken-boned baby, both bodies timing themselves down and now… reaching, reacting, for their thinning breaths to collide.

Only too asphyxiated to ever attempt to cause themselves to care anymore. And about to inevitably belong to a piece of dismantled peace and screaming quietude.