Wake this morning to find yourself lonesome
sprawled across these cobbled streets
following the footsteps like cat and mouse
gaze up to the low mists and see the trees
hanging off the mountain
like the wretch clutching her purse
The cold cobble casts you aside ripping heat from your shoulder
Do you find this your home?
Do you dare to question?
In the eyes of some God, some vile God, some God of convulsions
but a morsel of flesh, warm flesh, disposable flesh
rotting lifelessly in the dark sun
That taste of peppermint on your tongue is unfamiliar
though you know it well.
It is bore from a different plant, and it is not at home here
It's home resides on a cliff-side retreat
and you belong in the city
and she resides elsewhere
somewhere bucolic. Somewhere quaint.
somewhere the mockingbirds hover
somewhere the vultures fly
somewhere the needles pierce
somewhere the bodies lie
and in this fowl place you can find some beauty
stretched thin like a silk screen
or like a canvas
covered in black paint
flecked with the drool of stars
a beauty forgotten, in the chamber of jade
to see the sights and glistening lights
you must look to the sea, and flee, don't flee
the night will take you too
take you dancing, to a view
in the calm still air nestled inside the trees
Should the ember spark ignite the forest
the flame will burn undying
and ash the last of your clairvoyant light
call out, you may, to see autumn last
but the trees do not sway, their time has passed
the end in sight, all bright and blustering
Will come to pass, as swift as night, half a decade of wasted lives.
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