there's a lake

in the woods

where fish come to drown,

disposable lovers come to consummate,

and hopes come to die.

here i sit,

cigarette burning my fingers,

thinking of you.

your withering figure is pulling at me

from my depths

and i do not follow.

i do not care anymore.

where once we dove into

an ever pulsing crowd,

carving our way in the flesh of the world.

now,

i drift in all directions at once, alone.