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He roams around routinely, timid yet curious- still asleep. Entrapped in a dream. Allured by the night. Why? What does it mean? 

A familiar substance cradles his mind as he licks at the reem while he touches the sky. Brushing off the inquiry he claims he's not that type of guy-

When trying to remember it's simply an unfocused blur. Still unable to reminisce on the pain and the past precisely were;

All the while knowing their still there. The demons are hiding, whispering, playing, right beneath his hair.

half bred, half numb, half dead,

his memories are so folded and burnt, he can't even recall the advice his father spoke, the lovely words his mother said.

He drowns their concerns with the contents of a bottle instead.

Willingly lost his soul within a maze of a poisonous place he could call home,

finally calling the shots- dying at his own pace- painfully alone.

Feeling disowned by the omniscient, he can feel himself sinking through the floor at the same hopelessly begging for forgiveness.

Always wanting more.