The Nightly Ritual

9:30 every night
She arrived
In her bedroom
Concealed by ignorance
She changed her clothes
Her complexion was soft and beautiful pale

9:25PM regular like clockwork
In a tower adjacent to the first
He stood in a dark and musty room
Homeless, his fantasy was her
With binoculars from some previous war
He watched intently never blinking

He imagined her fragrance
Sweet and blossom filled
Pallid light abounded
Causing a holy aura
She never beheld her stalker
Such a clinger to obscurity was he

A pungent odor of urine and brandy
From times past
Hung thick in the air
In the dingy curtains
Smoke wafted from a cheap cigarette
Dangling loosely amidst an unshaven face

He imagined her body
Firm and young
Pressed against his in passion
Mutual lust abounding
Animalistic groping
Such demented thoughts came from his broken mind

9:45 Give or take a few minutes
The light in her room went out
Her shadow danced on the window pane
Like a ghost from some forgotten game
And she was gone
Until tomorrow begins this ritual again

He sighed
Closed his eyes
She was his angel
Outside his door came drunken loud shouts
His clothes stained from filth a year old
Clung to his damp and ugly frame

9:50 he fell into a lust-filled dream
Leaning against some moldy and torn wallpaper
He drifted into some forgotten memory
She was his prize
She was his wife
Dead and gone from a moment of his insanity

This was his fortune:
To dream and lust
And lie next to a poison filled rat
A lopsided fan wearily circled overhead
Colliding smoke
And lust
And blood
And rust
And life
And death