The tenderly shadowed man of the solemnly desolate night
Fixed his structured eyes on his
Crimson-rimmed painting
With such recently shattered innocence
As coldly driven as a freshly paced sweat that could drizzle
Down a divergent block of melting ice,
With maddened expressions
Swirling like twisters
Through his heart-wrenching
Perception of those like blue eyed huskies
Destined to find the master it so
Thoroughly has sought after
For decades of waiting
Hopeless waiting
For the master to arrive.
Overwhelmed by past experiences
This man of the night
Drifts away into the memories
That kindly lies between the paint
And his own desire to be heard
Falling into this world beyond the painting door
The echoes of the faint voices
Scattered throughout these halls
Remaining to fall
Some of these voices were recognized
One was held so dearly to him
Understanding that the dizziness of funnel shaped
Clouds began forming
For the creator of the painting
What felt like hours could,
Merely be a matter of seconds
With sleep depravity clawing
At his boned skull
He continued to proceed
Until he found what he was looking for.
The voices of those who had come and passed
Slowly drifted away into a bitter nothingness
As this tiny passionate girl
Wrapped her arms around his scrawny waist
Tears showered from nimble cheeks
And he realized what he knew
Should never be wasted
For the provocative hearts
Shall live once again
Reaped and broken was the man
Salt stung his lips
And he was motionless
“Daddy I miss you,” she cried.
On the inside this broken fool
This ill-tempered buffoon
Had nothing to say
Weariness had been portrayed
All the feeling of coldness
Found warmth among the breath of hope
Nothing compared to the exuberance of wanted
Desire among the founts of faith
His fastened heart felt as if lightning
Had struck fiercely
Thousands of voltage seeping through his skin
Decades of life coursing within his veins
He felt a jolt as if bound and shackled chains has escaped his grasp
Love itself showed no boundaries
Just to illuminate the world
It shined breaking barriers of emotions
To seek refuge among this fair child.
Knowing only who he was
Yet to refrain from sayings
Without expressing the life he has lived
His beckoning for her to know what
He had become
Moments would burn away her flesh
The flesh he had just witnessed again
How could he
Hold in so many words
Yet then youthful she was
She would never understand
The falsehood she was
Remaining distances between heartless and salvation
Hurt was never an option to perceive
No endless love could repudiate
What his love, or understanding of this word
“Love” itself couldn’t explain
What lies have been in vein
Yet with courage to meet strength in the darkest of times
He weakly tumbled to the dirt which painted black as decay
With the faintness of a whisper he cried:
“I’ll be with you soon, just hold on tight.”
Gravely her grasp slipped away
To where he was now
Every living creature could listen
To the sound of silence
That shouted through the doors painting
Opportunity wasted away
At the man of the night
Falling out of his droopy hands
Like an rotting babe left at the footsteps
Of an orphanage among the
Waste where prosperity
Will never be noticed

As the gazing on the painting slowly
Fades into deaths row
This man of the night
Suffocates from the heart of breathlessness
Motionless with only a smile remaining.