Embodiment of purposeless, meandering retort
Misanthropic, microscopic, demanding kind of sort
Stoic in a fractured sense that does no good for none
Emboldened still on window sills before a darkened sun
Rhetoric of a clouded mind that bends to wade in gloom
Identified by none despite the drawings in his room
A wielder of the pen and pad and digital decree
Dance upon intoxicants or dance to breaking knees
Able to feel, enjoy and laugh at your behest
Quietly, behind his frames, contemplating death
A possessor of the factor sole, the haunt of his beneath
The acts of yore that left him dying, settled out of reach
But he has hope for languages composed of lucid vibes
A hand of time and space to place a bridge to the divine
And grasping firm his social set with value and resolve
He'll speak in tongues of sight and song and learn to get along.
Love it !
i like the uniqueness sort of the quirky side of it, great job capturing my eyes line for line !
KemistryKia ")