The taste of water

I need… something. 
Something to end the day.
A reprieve.
Some hope. 

Something to take the pain away
or make it worthwhile. 
Something to give me the courage to
cross the grey border, into sleep.

I need to feel again
that the spark is still there
that I am more than this inconsequential
random
noise.

I need to know
that I am still more
than anyone can
understand.

Why do I feel
like a hitchhiker
dumped in the desert;
a carnival-goer
fallen off the ride?
Insomniac,
apostate,
exile. 

The river flows, there,
just beneath the earth.
I won’t taste it
for it isn’t mine.
I respect
that at least.

The music is gone
but was I the player
or the dancer?