This is the end of your life. . We all live in hostels that mirror our fear. Each face a portal to nothing or everything. Depending on resting on circumstance.
The medicine for your bleeding forehead. Could be the the meteor that forecasts all your problems. And if you care to view the open planned solutions.
The time is never a healer. You view the hourglass in this light. In a portent of removing logic. You took my head and built a supermarket on it. Digging while dusk still showed.