on nights like this where i
am left alone with thoughts
that have no where to wander,
that have no one to tame,
i begin to follow threads
of memory that seem not
to exist, or matter.

when the rain gathers in
the streets to find a way
to compromise the voices of
lonely men & sad women, i
am kept sane by one
delusion, expertly
marked with name
upon name.

these days do not accomplish
small duties which i have left
along the way. these days do not
hold insights into minds which i
would gladly pry.

these days are wasted
on moments & regrets, absurd
feelings that fling across the
room; in silent cries & the light of dawn
which permeates the dirty curtain,
& creeps through the sheets
reminding me to wake,
to rise & fall.