a single tree falls on deaf ears
dead in the ground
it is the sound of thin veneers
crashing violently down
like a muffled moan
or a cancerous bone
what organ feels love
when the rest crumple to the bed of leaves
and the sleeps come to burn
when the brain ceases thinking
and the mind refuses to learn
screams are white noise
colors are blurry toys
drifting through ego death like seasons of blinking
it is in this world no one grieves
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment