He walks the halls of this mansion

cigarette in hand

knocking over the furniture

thinking

of his model/actress/heartbreaker

who fills his body

with the only liquor that keeps him drunk long enough

to realize how unhappy he is.

His friends are all car wrecks

shinned to perfection

long before the collision.

He hands over dirty looks

to his mother

who only dresses in blue,

throughout her mansion

-mornings

at this place

distill,

frozen fountains

and they all swear that their really okay

underneath it all-

He walks the halls of this mansion

memorizing

and

agonizing over phone calls

and silence.

He nailed his window's shut long ago

screaming

loud enough

to wake the dead.

He wanted honesty

(he told me so.)

He wanted photographs

that I had taken

of that place

years ago

before the ivy surrounded it like ice

chilling

to the bone.

He runs around this mansion,

a joke

to everyone else

but the girls still love him

and his bed is always occupied.

They love the darkness

the mystery

of his shadowy smile

and how he smokes two cigarettes at once

just to shorten his sentence.

He walks the halls of this mansion

swearing to jump from each and every window

and then reassures me that I can trust him.

He says:

"Why?"

and I don't know how to answer him.

He walks the halls here

with a heavy soul

that drags him down

but that might just be what's so appealing-

the run down

is always a let down in the end.

He wears me out

because his life has never been what it seems

and he lies

straight to my face

but never notices long enough to apologize.

I can't stop thinking about him

walking the halls of this mansion

late into the night

when his father

fires his guns

toward the south,

high in the sky

with a screech that always makes me jump

but like always he's quick to take my hand.

I never sleep when I'm with him,

always waiting for him to return

from his walks around this mansion.

This mansion

burns at midnight

with madness

but he never seems to care.

This mansion is light,

and lightly gloomy

and I fear for him there

but he would never leave.

He walks the halls of this mansion

cigarette in hand

knocking over the furniture

thinking

of his model/actress/heartbreaker

who fills his body

with the only liquor that keeps him drunk long enough

to realize how unhappy he is

but I'm the only one who ever sees it.