To think that he was once happy, living in bliss
Dancing through the nights, tempting the sweetest kiss
The veil of intoxication, he knew not what he missed
A man with a pencil scribbling into the abyss
Putting words on paper so that his mind don’t go amiss
Inhaling the dust of an angel, ignorance is bliss
Fueled by the need to be understood in a world
Where nobody truly listens, but every lie is heard
He wakes up alone in the dawn, another day served
His burden is that he already knows all that is to be learned
And he joyfully neglects it, to get what he deserved
He tried to do good, but his heart is too burned
So he writes and he writes but the manuscript remain blank
Wallowing in his own filth, inhaling the stank
Of a mind so exploited, with a soul so rank
So he cries and he cries but his remorse remain blank
©Alexander Berg Mattsson, 2012
thepoeticgoblin 
I doubt if it’s THAT bad but I know how much things can hurt. 🙂
Oh dear, I’d hope that my soul isn’t “rank”! This is strictly fiction mate, but that things can hurt and scar is undeniable!
Oh yes how we relate!
very strong alex. the one line or part of it “Inhaling the dust of an angel” is really good. i’d be almost be inclined to believe it could be a reference to the world – being snowblinded by it. in a direct way though and obvious would be that of an addiction.
It is both a direct reference to “angel dust” (PCP) but also very much a reference to being in the intoxicating presence of a character that I haven’t introduced yet in this narrative, so once again, you are reading through the lines
Why shall the terminal point of all types of addiction be damnation!; the hardest end could be the type you’ve drawn here, for no rehabilitation can bring back a robbed mind..:)
Please accept my gift: http://divinerhythm.wordpress.com/2012/10/21/gratitude-garland/
Love & Light
Thank you, Mira, and I gratefully accept your gift.