• 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.