As he sits by the fire in his heart,
he sips from the ice cold in his eyes,
tapping his fingers to the sound of his veins.
He holds his anger in sight....
as he leaves nothing behind,
haunted by his past,scarred by his future
the world engulfs him in irony.
He holds himself at needle point....
threatening the loneliness he feels with pain
daring the world to leave him alone...
if only for just one night.
He believes that life is made up;
of what he is used to....
suffocating on his own breath,
he wonders what it would be like to dream,
so he can escape if only for a moment.
Lost inside himself he diminishes
as distorted images of how life should be;
recognize him from afar......
leaving him yet one more time ,
resurrected and back to nothing special.
Time is as it should be....
his enemy, yet his only friend
as he collects himself in fragments...
of memories and broken moments of now.
Knowing that his life is not his own,
yet he fights to stay alive ,
as his irony coddles his pain....
he fades to black .....
waiting for the light to find his soul intact.
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