I have hidden incognito a decade in this desert,  
enscounced in the Bad Lands of a wasted life,  
evading both politics and the Bureau of Statistics,  
immersed in maths for senseless games of chance.

I forget promises and birthdays with equal disregard,  
attempt mental reconstructions of past events,  
seeking the forgiveness I have no power to grant,  
all my atoms expanding heirlooms of critical mass.

The gravitational attraction of lifelong friendships,  
dithers perception at the horizon of a span of years,  
warping the wormhole space between our arms, our minds.  
I need only for you to ask that I should stay.