Stagnant strangers romance on crowded pathways

Below admiring the stage’s glistening coat

Her reflection on the sill

Giving the cheekbones their due

Praising the worth of porcelain skin

My shades of blonde dancing in the high sun

I gave labor to the grief

To the squinting spectator

Who drank in the despair

As i tiptoed off the plane of existence and drifted listlessly

Through the velvet blackness of oblivion

I am what I always was — Gleaming and empty

I am what I always was