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

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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 losses 

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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