He has returned into this system;
familiar backgrounds with indifferent faces
neatly arranged ivory furniture and disturbed objects
upturned rose has begun to turn black.

He remains in a grey area
a fine line between right and left
Helpless foolish efforts I say,
haunting details of the past
daunting flashbacks of the future.

Silence vibrates within these white walls
only the quiet droning of the ceiling fan
keeps him company in this lonesome island
he lives within his home.

For he has again, returned into this system
familiar feelings with indifferent faces.