He walked in a dream beyond the realms of most men,
perceiving things that were impossible to describe.
Living from hand to mouth was the order of things for him,
for all he was able to do was wasted.
Nothing worthwhile caught his attention for long,
it all seemed so pointless or indifferent.
His passions were for the understanding of the dream,
but he could not even understand himself.
The desire to create was strong,
but the tools to do it eluded him.
Never seeing too far ahead fearing a realisation,
where it was not worth going further.
Ultimately he had no one to blame but himself,
as he was more than aware of his mistakes.
But those past images were as fixed as his inabilty to understand why.
He is the man he is for all who want him,
in whatever capacity that may be.