I rise myself
four hours after
zero, shaking, numbed
urging to relieve
myself; nay, I find
the planet beneath
my eyes is not so
unlike reality

There is a quietness
grasping the halls, a drive
the picks me up from this
ground I fell upon, takes
me and pulls apart these
estranged fibers. It won't
be long until I break

Not a thing in view
of my eyes resemble
you, nor I, nor the
air-born past that shudders
my muscles as I
wake. I pace the covered
corridors, feel along
the furnishings. I
run and stumble without
a pavement to guide
the direction of my
prancing feet, seeking
a cove of my soul, a
burial place for this
never more resilient
huffing corpse of mine