The wall was my best friend while the quiet
Gray glass fell from my eyes. The frigid kiss
Of solitude numbed me. I would riot
Against the wind and sepulchral abyss,
But I did not wish to endure, intense
Withdrawal having taken the sweet time
And turned it sour. I found its mere presence
A great trial, so I began to rhyme,
Still faint, still unrehearsed, but soon the past
Drowned deep in my resonant voice. The train
Couldn’t whistle loud enough, and so the last
Ride left, but I didn't miss it. I'd explain
Why I’m not home, but I think that I’ve brooded
Too much over an act that’s concluded.
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