A Pacified Existence

[TJJackson93]

There you sit, bewildered and content
ignorant to the chaos that clouds
and settles like dust in your wake

Locked away, solitude and loneliness
take the place of that which used to
occupy your brilliant mind and skilful hands

You do not move, instead a resolute and pacified
expression settles upon your face, lingers and remains
and only changes when I am not in the room


Your hulking mass remains
long after my eyes are averted
and it will remain there for all time because
in that one room you find your solace

The scene does not change, it is a mere
watercolour painting of your existence
the table roughly covered with a scattering of
papers, food and your idle arms

I attempt to hide, to conceal my concern
appearing as ignorant as yourself
I am forced into enduring the flurry of truths
that flow and spill from whisky loosened tongues

They fall heavy, like sand into my cupped
and expectant hands, overflow and begin to find
pathways between my fingers

I struggle and scrabble, filling every pocket with
the unwelcome burden,
apologising as I hurriedly bail, suffocating under
stories and tales that I must welcome and dutifully excepted.

What have become of the man so beloved?
The man who would run, play and shout and scream;
old age and prescriptive medication has extinguished
the once fierce flame that now exists in exile
behind your weary aged eyes.