Thoughts of a Loner.

Smoke and Wisdom. (By Sapphirus)

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
In shadows where night dances upon the edge of oblivion,
There was he who once walked the path of brilliance,
He who now treads the dangerous precipice between ecstasy and annihilation,
And this was his tale of descent,
Tale of wisdom turned to folly,
Tale of power that corrupts even the crimson wisdom.

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
He was a man of true rare insight,
A sage cloaked in the veneer of modernity,
A sage of the ancient blood,
Wisdom dripped as honey off his satanic tongue,
Yet beneath the surface a darker nectar did brew,
The allure of drugs became his solace,
As he saw knowledge in those brandishing pills,
As he saw knowledge in the illusion of heroin,
His crimson gaze hazed by the clouds of fentanyl,
The taste of heavens blessed by LSD,
Meth became his dire oxygen,
Alcohol flowed within his once strong veins,
As he threw his life away.

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
He was addicted to the ephemeral touch of stranger's flesh,
The sensation of the hunt his heart longed,
Each night on full moon did he prey,
Woodland full of nymphs worshipping his body,
A false god,
As he drew blood and nectar of their core,
The immortality he felt as they wrapped their weak legs,
The immortality as the smeared mascara laced his feet,
The immortality as the whores gagged,
Bloody whores,
The corridors of his mind once lined with thoughts,
Thoughts of a thousand poets,
Now echoed with laughter of hollow despair,
A man truly defeated.

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
He inhaled the smoke,
Felt the raging dragon's breath,
Felt it coil around his consciousness and tighten it's grip,
The world blurred an ivy haze,
Softened edges and harsh realities giving way to a haze,
A haze of half formed dreams and fleeting pleasures,
In those moments he was not a man but "God,"
In those moments power surged his veins,
A cruel mistress that whispered,
Whispered promises of eternal night,
But wisdom was his cruel friend,
For wisdom remained throughout,
It spoke of consequences and of the ticking clock,
It spoke of reality and the inevitable fall,
It reminded him of hollow eyes that look back from within the mirror,
It spoke of crimson eyes that has seen too much,
That knew of futility of it all,
He laughed at his wisdom,
A bitter sound that tasted of ashes and truest regrets,
For what is wisdom.

For what is wisdom but the knowledge of one's own downfall?

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
In the embrace of strangers he sought for warmth,
Warmth long forgotten,
Bodies intertwined in a dance as old as time,
Sacred?
A fleeting connection that mocked the very ideal of love,
He was the collector of moments,
Each moment a stolen piece of someone else's soul,
Each kiss a stolen promise he never intended to keep,
Yet they were drawn to his dark charisma,
As puny insects drawn to light itself,
They gave willingly,
Blinded to the abyss that laid naked beneath his devious smile,
But even in the midst of passion he felt the void,
The void no amount of flesh could ever fill,
He whispered sweet nothings to the gorgeous nymphs,
Lies crafted with the golden tongue of a poet,
And within their eyes reflected his own despair,
For he knew that in seeking to possess others,
He lost his very mind and soul.

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
The crowd he ran with was a symphony of chaos,
Each player a note of a discordant melody,
They reveled in the darkness,
Glorified with the power that came along destruction,
They were the true royalty of the night,
Tyrants to a kingdom build upon chaos and fear,
And he was their reluctant monarch,
As he led them all with a heavy heart,
He saw their greed and hunger for control,
He saw them as the mirror to his own desires,
Power that seductive force,
As it wrapped it's electrifying tendrils around his soul,
Squeezing out the remnant vestiges of humanity,
As he stood at the precipice,
Looking beneath the pit of death,
And the abyss reflected the faces of those he betrayed,
Friends and foes,
Allies and enemies,
They were all but victims of his unquenchable thirst.

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
In the moments of clarity as the grasp of drugs weakened,
In the moments when reality seeped within,
He would sit in the silence of his very own making,
Memories played out as a tragic opera,
Scenes of a life once filled with promises,
Now tainted with utter life itself,
He saw the faces of those who loved him,
He saw the trust of countless he shattered,
He saw the innocence of many he degraded,
Yet he wrote in those moments,
As his pen became a dagger to carve truth on the pages,
Words flowed as his crimson blood through wrists,
Raw and agonised,
As he smiled manically,

"I am a King in the land of ruins~"

"I am a God of broken dreams~"

The wisdom that once guided him,
Now served as a cruel reminder of all he had lost.

In the shadows of neon lights and darkened alleys,
And in the very end it was the silence that killed him,
Killed his soul as his body lived immortal,
The moments between breathes,
The moments between each beat of his heart,
Where the weight of his choices lay with unrelenting force,
The ghosts of his past kissed him restless,
The fingers of the ghosts linger forever passionately,
A dead brush against his bare skin,
As his crimson eyes looked beyond the void,
He smiled a sad and knowing smile,
Power,
Pleasure,
Control,
They were nothing but an illusion,
Shadows casted upon the wall of life,
For true wisdom lay upon the acceptance,
Acceptance of one's own frailty,
Within the understanding that we are nothing,
Nothing but fleeting moments in the grand tapestry of existence,
The death of his soul was no defeat,
The man who sought to conquer the world,
Now found the peace within surrender,
And as the darkness finally claimed him,
He whispered the gift he gave to the world,

"In the end, it is not what we take from the world~"
"In the end, it is what we give truly defines us~"

Thus ending the tale of a man who flew too close to the Sun,
Who's wings of wax melted in his own heat of desires,
A cautionary tale etched in the annals of forgotten wisdom,
A reminder of price we must pay,
Pay in the pursuit of power.

~ Sapphirus