Frantic

He sits under the lamp

and is shrouded in darkness

unholy, impure- scrouges

the filthy walls, the concrete floor.

Distasteful, he claws his skin

his one dream to clean.

Speculating if ever,

the dirt washes away

Mutterings- an insane man

cursing words- the reddened mouth

and a view of yellowed teeth.

He bites and claws his skin

long, dirtied nails

bloodied now, so long

for him to continue.

He can't stop, he doesn't want to

dejected, despondent

degraded he feels.

Rotting in the darkness

that light reveals.