Fickle little feelings
Celebrate the decline
Of this roller-coaster
Called life.
Muster the motivation
To sew these open wounds
Rather than sprinkle band-aids
On limbs lost from decisions made.
This simple man
Lost in the light of his phone
Back to back cigarettes
Feet up, in his quiet spot.

This is what he prefers.

The silence is his company
Loneliness, his strength
Masked in jokes and one-liners
Painted as per scenario.
Lost all time
To evolve passions
Only addictions
Get the time of day.

Puff puff pass.

They all want his focus
Leech off of reputation
Which is tinted at best
**** in his nest.
If only he could focus
If only for a while
He could celebrate his victories
And share his smile.

Vent or implode.

His muse beside him always
Even in restless sleep
To share and adore and dote
On passions and poisons.
She will push his eclectic
She will drive his esoteric
Of the roller-coaster
Called life.