Dark Night of futile hope

@Uootem

futile hope,
          ruins of a heart broken with the losing
                              walls built around the soul for survival
                                                only serve to keep it in...
                          yearning is a prisoner of time
un-breached...
              festers chaos in the poet's reasoning.
                                                    there is no defense against this onslaught
                          except forgetfulness
                                            which flails against the effluvium of memory,
                              the boy sobs,
                                          the man understands,
                                                      the foolish poet lives inside the walls
                        dreaming forever into the night
                                              his regret fiddles words by candlelight,
                            with a connoisseur's interest
                                    as another verse burns into birth
                                                  amidst the rubble of smoldering desire.
            ecstasy turned defiler claims what remains...
                                which is really nothing
                                        as the beseeching of poetry
                        only feeds the frenzy.
finally the fortification deteriorates,
                          the poet is released with a deafening sound,
                                                                plundering what is left of life...
                                        which is really nothing
                        and scorching the earth with the flame he tends.
                                              The fray scatters emotions like embers,
                              the distance of years filled
                                              with the chilling chortle of lost lovers
                    who once shared a spark of desire
                                          but now drink wine under different moons
                                                                                as futile hopes
                                            makes for such a dark night.