Suffering Solitude

Suffering solitude
Alone with my thoughts
Blank face in the mirror
Puzzled on how I'm alone, listening
to the rain
Not happy with my hair
Wanting to cry
No tears to shed
Pierce another lobe
My face is oily
My feet, cold.
Listen to the rain
Wake up alone
My finances are low
I can't even buy "paint"
If I had
I would blow, from
my mouth, into
my nose
Just as in the picture
So long, long ago
All I have now is passion fruit
The drink, that is
All the passion has dried out
As the blood has from my flesh
I'm restricted and I've submitted
to this place,
my residence,
for the next six months
I'll have to call it my nest.