Can't imagine a place he better loves,
cannot call to mind a place that surrounds
his heart and gut with ropes so thick of hate.
He knows he's waiting, or at least believes,
though what or who would be waiting for him,
he says he forgot, or chose to ignore.
Perhaps, says his starving memory, her.
For years it has been so, this ceaseless game,
alone with his thoughts, and chasing her name.
He can't see the end of his tug of war
with the strings of her mask, become her face.
Someone says he can leave, done for the day.
Just come back soon for his dream for tonight.