The Realm of Self

He takes a breath, then comes apart
Abandoning all hope of sleep
Just one beat of his crusted heart
Informs him there's not much to keep

He is still one to live alone
Hunkered down beside the door
Or waiting by his useless phone
With tears pooled on the bedroom floor

He takes a breath, goes up in smoke
Soon drifting over city lights
And he can't fail to sense the joke
Whispered beneath his solo flights

Then back in abject solitude
Resigned inside the realm of self
His written words remaining crude
Cheap liquor on a sagging shelf.