I wander the night in search of meaning

but all I find is cold, stale air.

My teeth chatter, a rattling tattoo

of sombre notes and mournful tones

played for one inside my skull.

My friends, I wonder, what of them?

where are they now? At home?

I hope, but knowing not their names to seek

for all that was has long grown weak

I huddle in and breathe

this cold, stale air that rapes my lungs

and having passed just leaves me

stung, hollow, done and gasping.

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