The harsh wind beats across the Drifter's face. What demons has this man to create such a solomn face? What stories do his marble blue eyes tell? Too many demons; twice as many stories. Not even alcohol can chase these away. So how does he cope? The pain consumes him in a tapestry of art branded into his body. Each tells a tale of his own personal closet. Faces have been changed to protect the children from hideous nightmares. The ink has replaced his blood now and no longer does his heart beat.
Cold and Callous
His skin wrinkles as he lights his cigar. A muffled sigh escapes his lips as he exhales. The rollong cloud of forgotten childhood misadventures of years past engulf his body.
Cold and Callous
He closes his eyes and sees awoman in a hospital bed. And tears run down his cheek as she flinches in pain. The eerie yellow glow of her eyes and skin causes him to awaken. Sleep is not an option tonite. For haunting memories of a sick loved one he has yet to see flood his mind, and another woman causes him to snap.
Cold and Callous
His thoughts of her tears. The memory of her unsettling voice causes him to convulse. Not even soothing words or music can ease his pain.
Cold and Callous
The Drifter moves on. A shell of a man unable to relate to reality. For his reality, or lack there of, has been unraveled. A twisted juxtapose of the first.
Cold and Callous
The Drifter puts out his cigar and sighs in releif at the cicular mark embedded into his arm.
Cold and Callous
Only self mutilation can close this man's closet. Only pain can ease this man's demons.
No comments:
Post a Comment