Blue faced, onion taint,
vapor trail of grief, sticky
old feeling on the lips.
Many times charmed
and blessed, tonight unable
to move —
old man looking in
on a party that
twists for hours.
Sum total of life: he ends up
sitting in a bathtub sobbing
while his books fall apart,
ink blackening his skin.
No one’s got a care in the world.
No one’s bothered when he slips away.
Dark Matter 
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