Rummaging across the shadows
of my life
My head feels compressed with
heavy drunkenness.
My demon calls me noble
Yet I cannot dispel the
constant notion that
I am no more noble
than a shady whisper
drooling from the mouth
of a cheating vagrant.

What is an image
but a wasted thought
captured away from the soul?
My name is an image
that has only a dark and blurred reflection
of he whom I know.

By Shawn Olson, from www.shawnolson.net/a/104/.