Marching at a slow metronome clicking pace
Like a charmed chameleon, he mirrors others
Reflecting their habits and emotions
He perceives the passing world as a vague shadow
Skipping the corners of his dull unseeing eyes
No longer a plan, just a dead man dreaming
Awakening each day to broken records
Spewing opinionated words, passing time
Constructing his dull pointless metrical form
Powered by alcohol and pain killing drugs
Writing until passing into restless sleep
The clock ticking the minutes slowly away
While he lies dreaming of being truly alive
© Copyrights G. Jones 2012
A sad, wasted life, well expressed. I like your use of couplets!
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