When your heart is a barren desert,
Emptied by-a-silent-scream, with nothing
To look forward to, soul-wrought, emptied
By loss,  sleep is a lost fandango
Life a desultory, heart-wrenching place.
Wheels grind ever-onward, people seek
To avoid the clutches of dire despair
The solitary I reaches for an intelligence
That is no longer there, and I see myself,
Pathetically, grasping, at thin air.