A restless, insomniac soul
That haunts himself only,
Though the night's as dark as coal,
Led light helps him feel less lonely.
And so he indulges more,
Wasting hours by returning
To where he's been before
For a sweet, not-serious fling.
He's fascinated by a doll
Whose life is on display,
Yet such hobby's taken its toll,
Exhaustion's the price to pay.
Thoroughly amazed by night
And nearly dead under the sun,
To drop dead, that he might,
But he knows no other fun.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
