Waking to the warmth of the sun,
streaming in through my curtains;
I lay here,
without a thought,
without a qulam,
without a regret.
Just naked, with that light warming me.

All I notice are my discarded clothes
and how they represent my life anymore.
Hectic, trivial, asque...
Just, dispondent.

. . .

Nothing wakes me,
yet I can't remember sleep.

It seems I'm stuck;
trapped in limbo,
between who I once was,
and what I've become.

Which isn't much...

. . .

So I'll linger;
across these keys,
over his skin,
with these ghosts...
That have never heard of rest.

They're just here,
keeping me company,
with my numb emotion,
my guilt,
my longing,
and my Whiskey...

*At least it always keeps me warm.