Your stained life came to fruition, that frustrated lament like the wind whistling down a chimney, you still held your parched desires to be awaken brick by brick your opaque eyes mused aย ย lost rusted recoil from where your head used to turn, down gullies and cul de sacs until you ran out of retreats, a pied-ร -terre of disrepute like a dreg sipping sloe gin yourย nostrils flaring in the void