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


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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