Why do you darken my door once again?
What is it I've done
to deserve
this
e m  p   t    y    
s      p       a        c         e          ?

To spite you,
I'll welcome you.

To scold you,
I'll embrace your cold.

shiver, shiver

Here you come again,
lancing at my dreams,
my hopes,
my visions,
all of which I want to capture on paper,
but all of which you turn out
like horses from a stable
into the wilderness beyond
the reach of my pen.

Desperate.
It is not your namesake, no;
neither is it mine.

It does not belong to the man who searches for wisdom,
to the girl who bleeds her fingers on typewriter keys.

O, desperation, make me a statue
that others may look upon my emptiness
and feel
whole.