Skin and Bones

Yes that's him.
A man I know well.
Haunted.
Gaunt is he.
Hunchbacked,
joker in silk and velour
Conceals a sunken chest
Curved,
as a damned consumptive's.

Skin and Bones
Skin and Bones
Sails and Masts
Propel his locomotion

Coffee rings and cigarette burns.
All it takes, his memory returns.

Hard at work,
through tedium's gravity.
Hellishly heaviest of weights
to shoulder
then shake off
the close of each day.

I saw him stop
and sway with the wind
to listen for the rolling
of chariot wheels.
Look off at storm clouds
on far out horizons.

Yes, everything's made
to eventually break.
Nothing lasts,
no constants but change.

Foul breath,
betrays vile intentions,
as slogans and sayings
spill from my tired frame.

Yet still his visage returns,
and my pen only produces poison.
Woe!
Misery!
Placate me!
Let this red ink flow
through my fingers
with one intent:

May I expell this influence!
Drain Festering Cyst!