Held my breath, took the plunge,
took the flight to the other side of the world.
Disassembled everything.
Started over again.
Still, sadness is the shadow over my shoulder
and Marlboro my one true friend.

The fan fills noise in the corner,
in the space where voices had been.
Still covered in lacerations
from all those who reached out for me.
Keeping busy in the day,
buy and sell in the backwater streets;

if solitude breeds clarity,
then loneliness breeds insanity
and both arrive so rushed and so brief.
No need to lock the door
for no one will ever come.
If I should die, it would take a while
until someone sounds the drum.

I flew so many miles
and still, my sadness has won.