I look at the shapes
Of what I think I desire
They stare back
As gaping holes
I would spell it out for you
Only I cannot smell
I come away with an empty purse
Bereft even of the simplistic morality of youth
My youth, in which my past
Was short and indistinct
My future, romantic and unknown
And my present, documented but misunderstood
I walk alone amongst the crowds
A stranger to them all
It is a beautiful night
For some
For someone
But for me therein lies danger
And fear
Fear of the putridity of what lies below the surface
A foulness that even I cannot disinter
I am lost in a wilderness of goodness and honesty
For which I yearn each and every day.