the reeling

loneliness has become my second nature

is being too numb to respond usual here

colder now is the returning winter, still it's less intense and cruel

than that from some Novembers ago, the one with dilated pupils

the day I began to mourn all the wasted years

way out of there was my sole remaining desire

she, the angel of my purpose, died for a moment

treats of all kind seemed to have tragically ended

me, a failure yet again, or so they say I was

in the absence of all hope, faith, and trust

the same place I'm sitting, writing this chapter

dark days as such would revisit me much later