Have lopsided past-recurring forms.
And peer into the weary darkness
Unfettered by the twists and turns.
The Oblong shutters of my windows
Do gaze indeed with, ecstasy...
But find, ecstatic as they be
No single trace of you or me.
A dismal place...
"If death were a thing that money could buy, the rich they would live and the poor they would die." J. S. Le Fanu