A Child of Linger On

I am a child of linger on, I peer through the window gone. Running and running these thoughts won't leave the gloom of his mind. Treatment for isolation breeds freedom of intent and he seems to loll his head back in a world of loss. Dropped from the human registry, those who had known him call him deceased. Drop out high school passions were all that he kept alive. His next of kin was a washed out big brother who left whenever the heat comes up. His next pint of gin helps wash out the longing that leaves when the sun comes up. I'm doing fine, his head suggests. He used to stroll down prepubescent hallways dripping of gym class sweat swinging hard for the burnout challenge. Now he digs deep and buries dead lighters in the sand. Lit by a single childhood dream, his joy was kept chained, whipped, beaten down for all age shows that go on til the last teenager overdoses. Yes, he relishes in the sight of youth squandered. This is the only way to gauge his relativity. He truly is peering through the window gone. For he hasn't seen the light of day in at least fourteen true months. He waits for a summer slight crescent to peak and pours another glass. It's half empty before it even reaches his lips. A guidance counselor's nightmare, he haphazardly slips off his chair and hits the floor hard. Twenty minutes later the sun peaks over the horizon like the dead eye of a caribou lost in wasteland of brush and wreckage.