Like a cancer of the autumn leaves
forming and glistening in there excellence,
from a bright green to a dim but beautiful hazel brown
it strikes him as dull and boring

but of course the beautiful metaphor of the heart has long passed him by with the subtle carnage and terror lying behind his light hazel eyes

he wants it, but is in no reach of it,
he tries.. with all his might to see it, but it is no where to be seen..

as he watches the others laugh, joke and smile about it, it confuses him as he
can only taste the sour metal from the fork..

why? why can't he see or taste it?

he asked the question..
but the answer was obvious...

enough he says, with a 6inch piece of thick rope and the dark gloomy bars of a cellar door.... its over, in quite reply.

the taste, never to be tasted.
and the beauty never to be seen by those light hazel eyes so filled with joy but engulfed in the manifestation of his own dark shadow.

and now for him there are no questions to be asked, no taste to be tasted and no beauty to be glorified.


i thought you should know that all the extravagance of the world only came down to one tear upon this man, a man who lived and died without a life.