Craig Goldsmith

Phone is sewn into my hand,
Headset twines, spirals into my ears.
There is no escape.

Artificial light so bright it stings my red rimmed eyes,
vibrates again in anticipation, another …

Stale smoke lingers
In the foreign lobby
Random thoughts consume me.

Numb, naked, nothing,
nothing left Not now,
probably never again.
Alone and still.

Sleep is a stranger to me,
Once her familiar touch caressed me daily.
Where has she gone, that I may be left,
Alone.
Cold thick sweat,
where once was—soothing warmth
of sleeps sweet …