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.