Not exactly taciturn, he shared his bottle openly

Battered, banished, ill-remembered

Terrified of something seen

We grew to reek of martyrdom

And (our) mutual misanthropy

Certain pleasures taken from him

Never meant to want to be



Emptier known as a number



Lack of luck would not explain

His traveling for safety's sanction

"Standing on his head an always

Landing on his feet"

Casting blame and laughing

In facetious conversation

Certain pleasures in return he

Never meant to want to be



Emptier known an a number



They found him cold this morning

They found him cold at dawn