there's this lack of incompletion in his sunken-eyed pale complexion
the hollow graves between his teeth glowing with saprophytes of
nostalgia memories, the paroxysm of his burning hands rubbing
up between the scars, stars, and stigmas.

he has an addiction to needles and narcotics, his eyes bristling with
the pixels of this red and blue horizon, screaming softly between
the syringe and his irises, ashes of gutter beauty shattered
in vanity mirrors, blistering arms dipped in raw
imperfection

&

oh, you once called him the sky, dandelion yellow shades
of sunlight and pallid coverings of blue draped in
luxuriant lips but now he's just the ocean--
sinking beneath the twilight.