Gazing out the window
Reflection's all he saw
Glass ran its course hands
Through thinning white hair
Scalp growing bare
Painting the rooms with wisdom upstairs
In moonlit condensation
Illusions of his wife
She'd bring him coffee
While he sat at his desk
Penning out their life
A valiant attempt
To open strangers' eyes
He mister for too long
She'd be Misses "Most his Life"
The chalice he wed
Till she dropped his mug
And coffee down went
The warmth that she gave
Now soaking through floor
Paper and Ink
Hold up chair's leg
Poised at the sill
Brings back opaque
Dreams that were killed
So he's coating the walls
Coating the walls
With some ethanol
And he laid down his work
Laid down his work
To burn up the floor
and over his book
A phosphoric torch