Estranged

Every brick in the cell has a date and a time, Ingrained in a blood red script; Countdown markers of a history of mine, Symbols of pain in a crypt. I came and I saw, or the other way round, Conquered then paled like a ghost; What becomes in the end is a hole in the ground, Crematorium dreams of burned toast. At some point in a phase words engender no good, Buttoning lips in a daze; With a heart on a stick pumping misunderstood, Love is a loathsome malaise. If I hunch in a crowd and melt in the throng, Will no one perceive I am there? From nothing to nowhere I pinwheel along Even I cannot tell if I care. Feelings devolve in a spiralling drag, Numbness pervades all the while, The cats are estranged and let out of the bag And smiling a bittersweet smile.