Out, with purposelessness driven,

euphoria and splendours of the mind,

into the sturdy streets,

into their alleys,

ripe and burdened, proclaiming them,

although profusely bleeding,

strong and elegant

whilst bearing Kingdom's Name

of Immortality. The long haul

up into oblivion, by way of

stairwell or sad,

the refuse of the curtains

draped across hotel-room windows,

in whose fortitude art prized

the transient mystery,

the absurd endowment of good looks

meets futility for moments.

But it is ended.

I am, with purposelessness, driven

into the streets to claw, to crawl,

to scrawl my name

across chalkboards and roads.