Empty moments

And what should I do with these empty moments?
They expand and engulf, silencing my story.

They make me dread and run, leaving me askew.

Maybe they aren't real -
a result of excesses from different directions,
like traffic stopped at a crossing.

And traffic, as of a mad city,
that doesn't care where it goes.

But once they pass,
there's nothing I want so bad,
as empty moments.