Lost but not yet forgotten

His mind riddled with painful pleasures
Lost but not yet forgotten
From childhood dispositions
A boy playing games
Not fit for describing words
Or mainstream teachings
A hard dead touch
Weaving tiny brown hairs into dreams
Of nightmares that inspire innocent ears
To grow and learn at speeds that dance
On the edge of human comprehension
Where his paintings metamorphose
Into emotions that take the shape of tin cans
And empty streets with sharp white teeth