Yautja
for naught
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Every thought so convincing
That I'm going to fall
Feeling for a likeness
Reaching through everything
As you bask in this rapture
More comfort than I
And still a hand reaches
Blindly for naught
Swallowed as I sleep
Nothing to reach
But the ash, like a home
Not a speck of hope
Glazed eyes all but shut
Less trivial than bleak
Silence; fear the sound of speak
Sound of speak
Abandon
Phantom pain
Walls collapse
Abandon
Thoughts relapse
Phantom pain
I find solace in this misery