sprawled in his vacant mind
the beggar of time
searches for lost hours
in the sand. 
inventor of barren thoughts
cascading into 
stormy silence. 
he can't even paint his
with his starved dreams. 
his vision blinded. 
his feelings corroded. 
he has slipped down
the evil futility of 
n' the demons of
unfulfilled yesterdays
dance in his 
pain numbed brain. 
the misery of isolation
drives him to destruction. 
as the deviate anger
n' his fingers claw to
the telephone
in a last effort to be belonged.