Silly Man Poem by Samuel Richard Leonard

The yellow single bulb of light clashed with the white light of six long tubes hanging horizontally about the ceiling. It created almost a warm feeling except the luminescence of the stone floored basement allowed a feeling of solitude, which was cold. The way it defined every inch down there, tracing the rim of each empty bottle and can, it was eerie. Everything was still, void of a warm touch.

Of course, he had the fan on his xbox to keep him company, and the persistent dripping of water from the sump-pump in the corner. Occasionally some footsteps couldn't help but be heard from o'er head. The thin ceiling didn't do much to keep the close sounds, which should be distant, actually distant. Ah, and we mustn't forget the all too loud tick…tick…tick of his wrist watch. Damned thing has always been loud.

Sinking into the cushion of his couch he couldn't barely breath. He over heard his own heart beat, thump…..he'd have time for a thought and then, thump, again. All at once these things blended together, swirling in his skull as if wine in his goblet and he felt as such, tepid and potent. Ah, there he goes again. Being swallowed whole through the corners of his sharp eyes… oh how they tend to wander. What darkness then surrounds his protective shell remains unknown, for him in his solitude of yellow and white lights piercing through his temple stay down there, quite unaware of what's stirring up above.

Oh, he heard a knocking.

No wait, that's just him again. Haha, what a silly little man. He seems to have dozed off again. Poor fellow, doesn't he know it's four in the afternoon?

Well, perhaps not.
- Samuel Richard Leonard