He Left to Go Nowhere

You toppled the lamp when you stumbled across the room;
You shattered the light and left the shade intact,
And you also crashed my crystal ball.
You were my trophy, now just an atrophy denying a tomorrow.
Dark days, followed by more dark days, own your blight and blunders;
Your nothingness demands a solace from your worn and tattered chair,
With its rusty springs that claw the vomit laden carpet,
And tarnish the floor below.

Your preponderance no longer has a space;
Your face is a mere mask of wood, painted red.
Unity has lapsed and binding ropes have been severed;
Yet, I choose to suffer the din of your noxious snorts.
You make this your refuge, but your element will rot in its squalor.
You sit like a mannequin, fearful of straining your fading joints,
To redeem your prize beneath the foulness,
Still searching for that clue to define your illusions.

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