Wealthy,
by dint of lucky birth
lavish,
by way of early learning,
the boy's body grows,
but his mind does not, and
with all things merely
given
he himself is
given
to taking
all desired things
without
a second thought

Profligate
in action, manner, and style
his brash displays of excess
appear to him
congenial acts of
tempered moderation

his slavish hedonism,
blinds him to the
folly of his ways,
like a child with an
insatiable sweet tooth
and the keys to a candy shop

he peruses the town
in ritualistic fashion
night after night,
sowing seeds of  
licentious desire
which bloom
into Devil's Trumpets
of debauched
indulgence

one drink
then another
one line
then another
one pill
then another
one conquest
then another

attained in
rapid succession
pursued with
reckless abandon

awakening
in a different bed
each afternoon
sun beams
piercing the blinds
stinging his weary eyes

his temples throbbing
his vision spinning
his stomach churning
his desire remaining
the void within him imploring:
“ENDURE”

but soon

he discovers his
well of fortune
has finally run dry
the repressed knowledge
of this inevitability
descends upon him
like a Biblical plague

his cards decline
his key refuses to
open its door and
the doors of his conquests
slam in his face

and so

the destitute rake
stumbles pitifully
without aim

with body aching
with knees weakened
with ears ringing
with hands trembling
with vision blurred
with fear and doubt
mocking his every step

the concrete corridors
once so exuberant
now appear to him as
moribund and desolate
graveyards for the senses

the neon banshees
which once broadcast their
sultry siren songs
like choirs of cherubs
heavenly and divine
now sound to him
like the tortured screams
of the ******
rising up
to haunt his dreams

the emptiness remains
echoing his every
tortured thought:

"who am I?"
"what have I become?"
"why am I here?"
"what was it all for?"

awash in the tumult
of the dark night of the soul,
the handsome stranger's limbs
give out from beneath him, and
his mind collapses into deep
and dreamless sleep
whose
countenance mimics
the final embrace
of death

For him,
they are one in the same,
and of deaths,
this will be the first
of many
for he has
but yet begun
to learn.