Remember remember his near death in September,
the unhinged fingers reach out, aiming for his life.
He tumbled through the red and black curtains,
dust and cobwebs failed to save him from the fall.
A crumbling road leading to edge of a red cliff,
is that empty café his last stop until midnight?
Memories swells and stab until he hits rock bottom,
he does not bleat, there’s no need for sound here.
He digs into the grouting with his fingernails
and watches it happen before his very eyes.
In the patchwork of repeated scenes of decisions,
a game is made out of his trails and errors.
A lone barren tree creaks and dead grass rustles,
the grey blue wild sky presides his judgement.
Maybe, just maybe, he is comfortable with himself
but it’s the world that isn’t comfortable with him.
Putting his predicament aside, he lights a cigarette
and attempts to build a house of cards.