I push the needle through the hole,

And so I weave the tapestry of my life,

The agony of longing is almost too much to bear,

This woolen thread comes and goes,

As the frozen hours lead nowhere,

I do not belong here,

And I cannot but despise every rational moment,

Of this time, scorn

Every expression worn on the faces of all who,

To my eyes, are but adversaries,

And bearers of emotional disease,

Our jigsaw puzzle lies dormant in a box,

High on a shelf of sacred things,

There is no life for pools of beauty,

In this barren heartless pit,

Where there exists no love to nourish,

The strangulated soul,

Laid bare and needy,

Gasping for air,

Irresistible is the counting of the long,

Slow days till my release,

Each one in turn, precious,

Each one, life giving,

A breath designed to satisfy,

My heart that soon, it will,

Pray God, one day, find peace.