Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...


Reuben Woolley

dying notes

here we see
the species dies
in full confusion . we
were never golden , did not live
a thousand years
& all our lossesĀ 
were inevitable

we did not tame our monsters
& grinning they look
for compensation

this dying land

the theme plays
in single notes / in fading shades
of ochre . i do not change

a simple suffering
is no matter , was dark before
this sad unravelling


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