I Look, I Try

A lone dark-coated figure standing at the near end of a long empty table that recedes into white fog, beneath a faint arc of small stars.

I look, I try

I quirk at the sound of itMy mind ponders on the other sideI look, I tryA moments demiseIn the illumination of a covered lustI try to look inwardsAs the stars begin to shineKnowing as within so withoutClimbing up only to fall deeper within the rot

Wearing my crossOn a Sunday I callYou waited at the bottomOf the table at the topNever really seeing what lies beneathIn the sugar coat of my silky goldAnd sometimes my right has a Midas touchI stalled till the moment returnedMy mind has it all