What came about in a time of wandering.
The consolation  getting  me by was
     knowing  it would  end,
I could  go back
  I could  go  back  to how it was
    I could  go back to how it was when I remember  happiness  
      I could  go  back  to  how it was when I remember  happiness  
           although  the time,
     then,
     was not.
Coming home to where I am safe
and where I can  be  anywhere  but  here.

I got by in dreaming  of stories  to  tell  
that  reflect  where  I  have  been,
where a path of solitude  crossed  theirs
and voice  where  I fear  most  in going.
I busied my mind  in the folds of the concepts,
and I was not afraid.
I came to  where  I knew I would  
but still I can't  stop  wandering.
The house  is here, and  I  am  inside  
but both  of  us  are  empty.
I know  the  stories  that haunt these halls
even  though  I could  lose my mind  entirely
wondering  what they mean.

Is it common
Am I lazy
Am I standing  in a place that never  existed  
and if I exist

why.

I am  losing  the  grip of
whatever  it is that  actually  cares  to know,
if even anything  is worth  knowing.
Insight recognizes a pattern
I never will  find where  it is I am going.
I ought to just stay here, soon it will be snowing.
I'll  wait here.

Closed off, abandoned, derelict, haunted  
DANGER: DO NOT ENTER
             you are unwanted.  
I guess let it collapse  
   on its  own; we can't  pay
for demolition  faster
             than natural  decay.

If you  visit  
   it is to test the
   structural  integrity,
else to marvel at what could  have  been,
pontificate  
   upon  why she
    is what is left.
Or theft.

I wish I could  collapse  into myself
   to be consumed  within
      the black hole in my chest,
so that my lifelong  companion,
   loneliness, cannot  follow.
             It is where
             it is nothing
and where nothing  may follow  as a guest.