this life
has proven itself
to be
a strange hermitage
of empty lots
and parking garages
watching birds
and trying
to manifest desire
in a futile
cyclical hellscape
of unyielding
torturous want

no matter where
i am
it is always
so very far
from where my
heart lingers
beating weakly
in a crystal box
at the top of an
abandoned tower
amid the swirling sands
a mirage
among the endless dunes