Another sleepless night, just you and I, empty heart.
Another dark sky outside white walls,
another yearning, for someone, for scent, for sex.
This place, where sound and affection are absent,
is notable mostly for its efficient wearing-down
of body, soul, mind, heart.
Who can stay healthy while drunk on tepid water?
Who can stay clean in a polluted swamp?
You are a marshland, my dear,
abundant and sticky with evolutionary sweat.
If I am to cross these swampy streets,
I'll need your hand, your path, your light to follow.