ode to emptiness

in the midst of the darkest of nights I sit, my cold stool, I sit, my drink at hand, my lifeless reflection, oh if only, that land, that mesmerizing land, with sweetest shortest of words.1

but instead, I cannot sleep, Instead my eyes are buried within darkness below, an arc, of darkness, a mark, an indication of your tole on me.2

instead my body, uncontrollably surrenders, I shake it to wake it, but it is far too late.I shall go to that cafe again, I shall order my coffee again, I shall not sleep again, I shall stair into emptiness again, tell emptiness is no longer emptiness, tel all the chairs and the people and the light and the blur all become your face, so perfectly in place.3