You make it on stage, covered in fog, and his eyes, chained to the door. A ghost like thin air, coming alive in the aisle. The sun in her eyes, his head spins in circles, it seems like she called out his name. What has she done? Why is he not the same? Him squeezing out the last bits of poetry and madness, Parasiting his brains. She felt like a muse, using her softness to tame, Calling his name. His room full of smoke, her perfume still floats in the air. Every letter for her, to her till his reason is bare. He used to tell her, he lost the trace of his home. It's nobody's home. He revealed that his mother was dead, his dad wandering the world. Just like himself. She smiled at his emptiness, and said it's so good to return. To the place he don't leave, to the place where your whole kid was born. He asked her, what are we? She laughed and asked what he meant. He shrugged in return. Carving words in the pages, he was painting her portrait that night. Extinguished the light. She told him that she can give him what he's asking for. His drain in his mind, his being dissolved in the floor. He wanted to melt into the town as he walked. Detached and deformed. While she with her head covered and her eyes closed, she prayed. Prayed to her God. Her seeming to be so complete while his life fell apart. He was watching through his window, the rain stopped and started. Her lipstick caught the highway dust as she moved. Paralyzing his mood. He lived and he spoke to her as she chained him and left. She took all he had. The silence was shooting through him as he finished his song. He hoped she would hear him calling for her in the fall. Nobody heard. Nobody heard.