Contact of Darkness

Dark descending to the soul,
Pitch black pit,
Unloving, no one to hold,
No smile awaits his coming
In the dark,
Just the water pipes drumming,
And soft hissing of the steam,
Just the dark,
Collapses into a dream,
Resting in torn dirty sheets,
Down alleys
Lost away from city street.

Darkness waits.