Without a Trace ~ Wednesday, November 12, 2025

She comes into view towards the camera
how so long ago, he has forgotten
empty now, the nest, they all disappear

curtains drawn, scatter the diaspora
over ten directions, they all vanish
maybe his children were misbegotten
empty noise resonates, they reappear
simply illusory, phantoms and dreams

if he pitches a penny, make a wish
nothing remains, the point of no return
tears rarely fall, simply anxiety
of course, to return, his stomach would churn
vexed by time passing by, sobriety
invents a new language, laughter and screams
empty memories full of emotion
words get in the way of actions, a sense

torments his time alone inside his head
obligations not to sail the ocean
words not to encourage but to hinder
anger and violence construct a fence
remember the tear-stained pillow, the dead
dispute the facts, what is the point, confide
sorrow and suffering with a cinder

there is no one left to discuss how sad
how lonely he has become without joy
empty stars in the sky, nothing too bad

catastrophe, he was once a small boy
aspirations to have fun failed, to hide
mercurial as emotions, to pass
empty-headed transients on the train
restrictions, a killjoy, fun down the drain
anxious, half-empty or half-full, the glass