I walk down empty streets
looking for you and find only wind.
Afternoon sun burns my skin.
Nothing new in this dead land.
If I found you would you recognize me?
Gaunt face and weather worn skin,
aged remnants of the young man
I used to be.
Rays of light beam into my mind,
Irises constrict to a needlepoint,
Burning away a landscape
as dead as my inner life.
Aching joints give and break.
I can feel the ants on my skin.
Such small feet pacing over me,
Mandibles tear into my flesh.
Waiting for sunset.
Waiting for sunset.
Nothing left.
Only this.
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