He was out of his mind
Over ruthless rivers of gin
Top heavy, with a young man’s curse
Of free-will and pheromones

Three shots
And he was off, into the wind and rain
Down an old friendly road
That had long served him well

But familiarity, was stolen from him
In a gust of remorse
Beneath the white-hot glare of a lamppost

And with weak-knees, he crumbled
Into the rush of the pitiful gutter
Swept along, with a million lost years

He was swept up once more
By an admirer from eras long past
Her raven locks drenched and matted

For the rescue of a fool
Her most dear, and devoted of fools
Who shuddered, in the warmth of her voice

Their home was drawn open
As they stormed
Through the quaint halls of the past
In a blend, of walled-away rage,
And lust and redemption

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