In Room 308 of the decrepit welfare hotel

he peers out the window

his green eyes rest

on the parade of lost souls below

Mothers on their knees

sons desperate for their fix

fathers swallowing poison

anything to fill the nameless hollow

A tragic ant farm of misfits

desperately scouring the concrete

in search of a diamond

that does not exist

In unforgiving moonlight

his heart crumbles a final time

because these are his comrades

and this is what he has become

my brother sits at the small desk

to prepare his demise

a silver spoon from our mother’s kitchen

and a silk tie from our father’s collection

Taking a deep breath

he makes a courageous decision

to end the haunting pain

and burn the trail of disappointment

Radiant relief embraces him

an oceanic baptism

under a screaming sky

He is finally clean

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