It’s frusturating
-almost to the brink of insanity-
to draw ones lids
day and night
desperate hour upon destined hour
and see nothing
not even a trivial drop
of anyone else’s entrancing facade
I have to ask;
Do you find it humorous,
haunting me like this?
Or are you just the same
And have our ghosts made up their absent minds
To toil in each other for longer still?