The glowing coals of the fire near two months now passed have burned out their last,
And I am here left with nothing more than a feeling of simple emptiness,
A hole there screaming blue murder day after day to be filled.
It nibbles at my waking hours and infuses its perfume into my dreams.

So let me then escape from this lonely cold waking life for a few hours
Into a world of dreams, a world without lasting or cloying pain,
Where nothing is permanent and where nothing need make sense,
Where the conditions of the waking world have not yet permeated.

Let me clutch to my chest a stuffed fox, a memory of what I sometimes am
And what others erstwhile were.
Let me dream peacefully for a few brief moments, and perhaps when I awake
The world will be just a little bit brighter, just a bit less painful.

Perhaps by some trick of the light or some shift of color and sound
The world when I awake will at least seem a bit brighter,
The air a tinge sweeter.
But then again such a hope has failed me so many times before.

Am I wrong to pin even a little hope on this, to let him even touch my thoughts?
Is this nothing more than the next forlorn unrequited longing in a line of too many?
Such thoughts, such considerations escape me now as my little fuzzy mind goes black,
And I spiral down into an infinite dark and quiet sea, vivid with its surreal wonders.