He sits staring at the empty wall in front of him.
His eyes, heavy and ringed with countless circles,
Gaze blankly ahead.
Not quite at anything,  no not really,
For there is nothing to see.
No he looks through the wall,
through time itself,
Into the vast emptiness of eternity.
His long, broken fingernails,
caked in centuries of filth,
Scratch listlessly across the arms of his chair.
Droplets of thick drool,
reeking of decades of uncleanness,
Roll slowly down his chin onto his lap.
His hair, which had become a booming metropolis of every variety of insect life,
StIcks about this way and that
In harmonious unity with the unkempt nature of his eyebrows and beard.
A gaping hole, oozing with **** and blood,
The empty cavity in which his heart had once dwelt,
Replaced now by a war between worms and maggots.
These same creatures having claimed the lower part of his torso,
For the rest of his body had rotted away eons ago.
Flies pour out of his open mouth,
now toothless and tongueless,
It had long lost most of it's purpose.
On his forehead is burned the word "Knowledge",
A simple yet powerful word
Left there since the dawn of human understanding.
And so it is that as time drags on he let's his body decay
Let's it be devoured as here he remains....
In silence. .....