The Finer Points

Softly spoken yet perfectly clear
Vibrations wake my deafened ears
Where is the road map out of uncertainty?
How can we finish the journey?

Crawling out of bed and into my head
Trying to remember what everyone said
And it’s never quiet in my own mind
When I accept the swollen hive

Bulging with terror and bound to rust
Our Earth has mingled all its dust
And when we escape to Mars and such
I’m sure we won’t remember much

What can we do? Where can we go?
I forgot which way that river did flow.