he falls into the fray
letting the last breath escape
his lungs
even the weight of his body leaves him
in the ether of smoke
summoned from violent escalation
where a backyard became a battlefield
and his shadow - loyal like a disciple
was the first to leave
and now he's in the presence
of some otherworldly thing

"what are you?" he cries in the clutches of defeat
it can't answer in words or gestures
he raises the same hands
which could build homes inside hearts
parched voice pleading, "I've lost everything"

his wants and desires are like stomachs
which cannot accept the notion of hunger
he falls to the floor waiting for death
or something like it to wash over him

yet this thing speaks to him
not in words or actions
but it communicates
he lifts his face with mustered strength
knowing everything that went wrong
cannot be changed
but change is not beholden
to the past tense

his eyes blink rapidly in
the wake of adjustment
sensing some light so soft
it could be a secret
telling the smoke
it's time to leave