we learn

the mist of his gait,
pierces the hallway
hallway; that is
sullen and sore
in its mundane bowels
of false answers
to fake questions
of battling yawns
and twitching moans

he walks like dust
on the flesh of absurdity
seen, heard, felt by none
like carcasses of
ash,forlorn
at the chimney dorm


the mist of his gait
in sepia of solitude
the fading footsteps
that occasionally gate-crash
run,run,run
he soliloquies
no, sings
a rhapsody,
birthing an identity.
(perhaps!)