The self,
absurdly reaching for,
a place on the top shelf,
where we are reached no more,
a solitude of health.

Desire,
a veil across the eyes,
our innards turned to fire,
what reason underlies,
lost in futures conspired.

Panic,
overwhelms emptiness,
drops in the Atlantic,
swallowed by loneliness,
madness becomes frantic.

Lifespan,
the gift turned albatross,
doing all that we can,
to stave the ceaseless loss,
from futures that were planned.