Here, I’m at the bittersweet end.
All has been gutted, trashed & rent.
A hollow husk of domicile.
This void space, soon, will be erstwhile.
Much could be done to save this scene…
Some time, matches & gasoline.
But, that’s a problem for strangers.
For, I now desert these dangers.
Off to haunt new, greener, pastures.
Where, dreams, I might manufacture.

