Me. Spendin' some time with myself stored up in this room freezing my ass off in the cold.

Me. With stiff fingers trying to put in sad words of my degenerating self withering like the cracking dried leaves under the soles of my boots.

Me. Hungry for some kind of peace of mind unsound for time unknown, longer than the way my song goes crying.

And the marks of questions that I have been searching for, which I have already answers to, punctuate my head into punctures that leak out till I'm hollow.

Me. It's just me now, with the good company of myself, enjoying all that I have been enjoying for the whole of my life.

Where's you?