these waning days with a year nearing end weary with search for where new energies can begin and the constant calloused tending of the aging perimeter fences needing mend I wrote too many letters to the unliving drank a little too much cheap wine and kept forgetting to think of it all as inexpensive though my accumulations have been dutifully recorded by my many apps except for what mattered like those times I awoke in the stillness of the still dark everything silent and pur