A perfect triangle pretending to be right

A perfect triangle As he stood in the shadow Of the dead eye windows of his home His face alway up Stars or cries of cloud his theatre The sounds that based from his neon lit blue ears He tugged at some oversized hood Like a monk struggling to damper the candles for nighttimes prayers Answered with a monotone of shadows nod The passing friend fed a gentle wave You ever want to say to someone Can you please stop this conversation before one of us dies -nothing to do with poem but I share Unsure where shadow says Sometimes his profile glimpsed in the orange of his cigarette Spelling candy in Only two leters t get back up there Sometimes caught him tapping his feet against the wall Lost in the sound of his garbled favourite sounds I try not be surreal so the reals think I am real Rain splatter dropping seemingly in time To his hooded droo ………………….,.,…ping nod matching its scratching tempo His breath hesitant on the ice that paraded as the wind imagining we are only ones that imagine Above us only sky I always just looked out No moonlight only more sun Does that mean every song lied More sunlight serenade doesn’t quite hit the Mark unalived in car accident Left quite a To Mark everyone Last funeral I was ever asked to talk at Coincidence why what’s