A broken timepiece in my heart ticks away, but has fallen out of rhythm, out of place; and I know that I will go on feeling this way, perhaps on and on like an eternal flame, or the dream notion of a perpetual motion machine.

Yet still, I shall dwell, woolgathering, if you will, as the days and weeks that go by in this ghost town where I reside, do go on and on, under the stars, under the daytime sun   --and into the void that I see drain.