The somnambulist searches
in an insomniac stupor
His glazed eyes
unseeing
he gropes in the darkness
His hands graze fleshen walls
that pulse
as if with subtle breath
Who knows what he seeks
certainly not him
Naked he wanders
clothed only
in a tattered Jolly Roger
skull stained red
caked in dried blood
He longs for something he cannot comprehend
he longs
for the one he lost long ago
Each stumbling step he takes
he sighs
praying in vain
for a hand to reach out
and grasp his
to lead him from his endless maze
of failure
Into a new realm
where darkness dwells in beauty
and love is not an illusion in the hat of a trickster
"This way"
a voice whispers
and he stumbles on blindly
to his doom or to his joy
this is something he cannot know.