Where the fuck is Taz? 

Where the fuck is taz!?

The dark skies penetrated 

the back seats, 

silence ripped through 

our minds

as speed gurgled in the pits

of our stomachs. 

I caught you a time or two

watching me in the 


we wore shyness like 

battle armour,

a daily fight to reach 

each other. 

Coldness seeped 

across our skin, 

goose bumps the scars

of an empty space. 

We were running out 

of road, losing heat,

silence killing us. 

Screeching tires. 

Where the fuck is taz?!

Your eyes twinkle when

you smile. 

Your laugh so rare,

the melody confuses the 


Where the fuck is taz?!


Your hand reaches through

where the back windscreen

should be. 

Where is taz? 

The lonesome window sticker,

gone along with the glass.

Lost somewhere in the 

dark, a lone windscreen

shattered on the dark

empty roads to 

Karen Hayward ©2016


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