Like a ghost at my bed three a.m.
haunts the spot my heart used to be.
In a room that echoes vacant night time
chats, I think of eternity in purgatory.
Locked in a rhymeless room with no view,
no paintings, no sheets, no floor, no air –
only a roof and four walls, screaming perpetually –
no one can hear
I suffer through a time without an end.