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Solo, nebulous, friendless,
A cheerless, frangible thing.
Why seek my psyche the stranger in it?
What offering can the vignette bring to me?
The alien of the erected portrait
No more moved by my plaudits.
Deaf she is now as she stands
To my forlorn ballad.
All night she stands beside me
Gazing at me always ---
A meaningful blind look of eyes
Which looks at me, even in darkness.
Nonchalant orbs are hollows of delicate wildness
Tender disgust of agony burns,
A portentous beam smeared upon her lips
A perverse simpering it is of hatred.
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