my oldest friend, what have they done to you?
I saw you hunched over the casket of your former pride,
resigned, waiting for the final erosion—
torn the embellishments that lent a sad peculiar little charm,
flayed the walls that refuged your dreams,
gutted and claimed for themselves the memories kept visceral,
left to smolder in the smoking sun, naked and humiliated,

you were rotting and consumed by fungus when I saw you last.
you were bloodless and the paleness frightened me so.

and where was I?
oh, dear god, but where was I?