Welcome to the bitter world
Of four o'clock in the morning
Where dreams have ended
Brief journeys that seemed endless
through funhouse mirrors that show you
distorted images of yourself
blown this way and that by winds of loneliness and lust
Till finally lost, abandoned, wandering running
Through labyrinthine cityscapes and ruins
of massive buildings that never were nor ever could be
you wake in darkness
dawn is some way off
naked in the tumbled wreck of bedclothes
stripped of even the comforting illusion
that it was all, after all, a dream.