I'm not really sure how this'll work out, since I'm not usually successful with fanfiction poems. I may delete it in a few weeks if I decide it's crap. I watched a House episode late last night and felt an urge to write one of those melancholy, not-quite-clear free verse poems that always fascinate me. I like rhyming poems, but that wouldn't have fit the format of my mood, and this came out in the wash. Enjoy and contemplate if it's worth it.
Disclaimer: I haven't even seen all the episodes, so it goes without saying that I don't own House. It goes even more without saying that I wouldn't know what the heck to do with it if I did. :P Fixture?
He doesn't recognize that man
Sitting on the bench, wooden
Adapted to the discomfort
The cold, the aloneness.
Clean-shaven, in the mirror
The stubble inside his mind
Tries to look through or past
Breaking the glass.
Doesn't have anything
Doesn't miss it, not understanding
Why he gives anyway
It hurts, but it helps.
The boy with the others
Blends by invisibility
Normal means something
So they believe, and he tries;
Thinks about chances and all the
Rest, without reason
Has a memory of being
Somebody else, once or never.
He does recognize
The spark of blue
Blue with the bristles
Taps on the floor, uneven.
The verses, the thoughts, then
Gets smaller in the flow
The greeting, sarcasm, now
Grows, grows in retrospect.
Says nothing, keys on the table
Laughs, takes the ride
Wind blowing to work
No helmet, and he's home
I intended this to be about Wilson, with the verse about 'Blue with the bristles' introducing House, but feel free to interpret it any way you want - I think that's the point of poems like this anyway. I just wanted it to be about Wilson, because he's awesome (thank merduff for introducing me to the wonderful world of Wilson/House friendship!). But like I said, you can fit this to any character from anywhere you want, and I'd be delighted to hear what the poem made you think about.
Thanks!