Puzzle

Shy introverted guy with a high that's super fly while intoxicated, mastering intoxicating a room full of strangers this guy blooms stranger and consumes all of the light. Imagine this; its dead of night a black hole with no end in sight he seeks the bigger picture, frame it and maybe get richer but the figures unfortunately never add up but honestly how could it be a gimmick if a mind is simply just made up? fabricated. reacting like fight or flight his actions always precise he feels living whilst; so close to the eternal abyss emotions echo with no sound other than an nocturnal whisp, calculated with a dissonance of a fading mortal grasp but just enough rhythm to make even ignorance laugh; this guy is dying slowly but surely the pain of living is lonely but while his head shakes and he accepts fate, theres nothing to fear but the holy ghost itself, dear and near a state of absolute delusion taunting him from beneath the frequency that every sign draws its conclusion like creation is returned to isolation it all dawns, he has puzzled himself and ponders on life and what's wrong "who am i?" the shy guy asks, a pawn introverted claiming "I can fly high" but was i the right guy? that piece maybe a star in the night sky "whats my purpose?" he pleads while reflecting in a mirage of churning thoughts left with a notion of utter exhaust, it's a fine line between being found and being lost.