An empty pocket sailor
Drifting along the currents of cohabitation
Tattered sails hang hidden
To all save crying eyes
Alone from earth to sky
An inverted intentation
Wearing a strapless soul and
Paper boots with starving roots
Howling silence at the satellite city
Lupine speech with a laudable lisp
Transient taste
And aches to be kissed
Crumbling mortar means weakening walls
Within his house of cards
The Jack of Clubs can’t hold long
Without the Queen of Hearts
Solitary confinement
Rooted by stars with iron bars
The fear of growing barren
Has him sticking love in jars