will I drown? the wind twists, and we kiss the flowers; seize the backbone of the root, where our blood is ours. the tree trunk can’t see death; unparalleled, my father disintegrates. the sunsets are claret as they burst. the glass region, eyed by the ants, flourishes in the light by remembering; eyes, pressing to… Read More nothing left.
One memory death has fallen like the decayed fruit; the shores have frozen, and our bones are shivering dark-blue; a shadowy world with beauty as it faded there is no promise under the oak tree nor the wilderness of the flowers nor the maples on lashed dead rocks there is no promise for me or… Read More Acedia.