The Gleaming Man

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You live, 

smoking away the whispers

that scratch among your 

shadowed walls.

Breathing in the burnt ash,

feeling what is no longer you–

living within an altered reality,

becoming a half you–

a you that can no longer be

you.

 

And I watched,

admiring the tranquility I saw you obtain

for once–

silencing a pounding darkness you fear

will consume you.

I watched.

But I began to witness a state 

you never wished to exit–

a reality that made you

succumb to a substance

day after day until

you were a perpetual half life

who believed himself whole.

A brain tricked by the lies of 

logic slanted through intoxication

and ensured by the devil beckoning

from within,

clothed in a glowing gown–

promising answers and euphoria that

dissipates once your feet finally touch

the ground

and sobriety claims your weakenend frame once more.

 

And while you feel empty

because the gleaming man swore,

you fill the trench 

growing wider and more barren

each day–

blowing your little heart into an oblivion

where the gleaming man tells the 

truth

and being half a man

feels fulfilled.

 

You left–

and I could only stand

with empty palms,

staring as you sang your demons to

sleep

only to lie among the ones

you were breeding all along.

A half life.

A curse life.

A life I’ll mourn out of your sight,

for I could no longer stand to watch.

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