Love,
Drips,
Gathers,
Stirs the quicksand
Whisper's in an artificial wilderness
Pale rain over this soundless dark
Your spittle eyes  
Emptied of poetry
This nightmare, a purpose more obscure
In a rapture of distress
Universal love and hope
That pilgrim soul in you
Your shadow deep
Your desert of the heart
With that rhythm, a song
Your intellectual disgrace
Tingles in the feet
Between each stroke of this grey dull sleep..

Gypsy