it’s late, i’m older now,
time to sleep alone, off to bed alone —
but not alone, not alone.
my mind gropes for clarity,
for moments of singularity,
each seeking for their own,
for his own, for her own.
i only ever want to develop, to hone.
sharp pangs ache my heart,
but i’ll just pour it into my art,
and create a visual home,
a place all my own, not alone.