Out in the cold, alone in the dark,
wits dulled by years on the ward
after decades of slow deterioration,
he staggers certain half-lit streets,
enters abandoned buildings,
but finds no solace there.
He huddles in corners and mutters;
recites the empty justifications
he created so long ago
to rationalize his state;
he chants the sad mantra
of his ruined condition.
Toward dawn, unsatisfied,
he turns himself in again,
at the front gate of the hospital,
~ Exhausted ~