Wretched notions
In a solitary space you composed,
I cross inertia in your company,
Into my space composed of me,
As into a town from which all have just fled
forever
With an absolute conviction of no-return
(something which, I know, is unlikely to happen.)

Wretched notions
Poised in the air, beyond any relevance,
For the miserable and magnificent reason
That I no longer have senses.