Our time has grown tall and fine
Thriving weeds in naivete
And what of the maggots beneath that grasp at our heels?
What of the decay you hid from me?
The search amongst blades creating ghosts in my wake
But we never cared for collateral damage, we tore off our only wings to
Remind ourselves of our own mortality
You weathering in saccharine words
My death by recurrent fables
The shine is at my neck
Don’t discard the poison
Don’t leave me alone in this.