Deviating Inclinations

I remember
How we used to speak;
Of places we wished
To travel when we
Would be older.
And all was sound
In our serenity
Of orbital silence.
Common purpose,
With common goals.

But now I sit
Suffocating,
Vitals barely alive;
I sit on my bed--
Hazed thoughts through my head
Are half-dazed death walks,
And half-dead sleep talks--
And you've left your path
With no ruby slippers
To take you home.