he paints
lives
he has never seen
imbuing the canvas
in all the loneliness
dripping along
the smeared easel
of his soul

he dresses
paces
makes excuses
lets the anxiety
bubble
through his
hopelessly
compromised
immuno-integrity

the blinds are closed
as his head
pounds
darkness is all
he knows
as he puts
brush to paint
paint to scene
unseen

living the lives
his imagination
brings to life
in the cobweb laden
backrooms
in his cavernous skull
candlelight soliloquies
hummed
into the night