He’s not there
But was he ever
Briefly, yes but flickering
Phasing, fading, trickling
Passing out of existence
And then back into a stupor
Ghostlike, his empty soul
Echoes in the gloom
A husk, a shell
We know that he’s
Just barely breathing but
Far from alive or well
Is this a little too close for comfort
Too close to home, are the
Manacles rattling against the oaken door
Be gone, be cast out, step back
From the looking glass
The sand runs from the hour glass
Peer through it as it darkens and
Empties.
Like your fucking life.
Iridescentfox 