of my splintered spirit,
The foundation of the matter tingling
but not enormously,
as something so earthen and barren
was disgusted by any advances.
I turned to look upon the side of the bar,
No candles or wine glasses were laid,
Just eyes upon eyes upon eyes
Dispersing me, immersing me,
into the planks that lined the floor.
I was eternally nothing in the eyes of
but to myself a dead and broken remnant
of a wild tree, hacked down,
never to breathe a sigh again.