the lost poetry of some dark soul

i am these 4 walls
i inhabit the wind
and its moaning
it's depletion of morning
i find the callous of my inward groaning
i am far
from here.
and where is my love?
the final stage of life
the brave and the incorporated
the pale and the bronze hero
i am these small thoughts
and restless are there droughts,
of green neon nights
and cacophony of pirates
the spirit that haunted Ahab,
i am the distant drum
i am the energy and the crumb
of someone who falls somewhere
between God and the devil.

- Kevin Max