Amarillo

Emptiness was all they could find
as the journey begins with the first breath of morning's air;
It passed through the lungs, expanding them
The heart marched with the voodoo drum
contagious,
repetetive,
overrated.
And the eyelids closed, taken by dreams
they burned with sunlight as truth filled in.
Fingertips ache with the ghost of a foreign touch,
It was there,
it still is.
Emptiness was all that's left.