a half-soul lad ..

alone in his apartment,

that seems so wretched and devoid of light,

he is all down and wrecked lacking his soul’s half

feeling the eerie ambien’s black hues.

with the phantom ache inside and acerbic pain,

he is all arid and dark

deprived of sleep and stamina,

starving himself sans his soul’s aria,

sans his soul’s luminance,

and even perhaps its pulling him down

to a nadir of sour acrimony

sans his very soul as a whole.

 

amidst some surreal hallucinations,

that  seems to relay his half  soul’s

voices and visions exuding from his subconscious,

screening him his delusional aura,

rather a lucent panorama that has taken

its stance right from his mind’s array

of indelible instances and deeply residing

meme ordinates beneath his grey and white matter.

such illusory paranoia and obsession

seems to bifurcate him away from his actual continuum

and migrates him across time to the past,

framing his visions and illusions

of inerasable prominence and depth, 

like a consoling potion, a drug,

rather a ephemeral cure

or to the least a transient solace

for this half soul lad,

hovering him away onto a different peregrination

from the prevailing scene of sinister’s clutches

and its ugly tentacles.

alone in his apartment,

that seems so wretched and devoid of light,

he is all down and wrecked lacking his soul’s half

feeling the eerie ambien’s black hues.