For Naught

every thought so convincing
that I'm going to fall
feeling for a likeness
reaching through everything
as you bask in this rapture
more comfort than I
and still a hand reaches
blindly for naught
swallowed as I sleep
nothing to reach
but the ash, like a home
not a speck of hope
glazed eyes all but shut
less trivial than bleak
silence; fear the sound of speak
sound of speak
Abandon
Phantom pain
Walls collapse
Abandon
Thoughts relapse
Phantom pain
I find solace in this misery