gone, past the edge of winter, she was gone, gone, gone, a last swirl of snowflakes spinning in her passing

the sparrows hop, from branch to branch, in curious titillation, the red squirrels skitter in search of forage

the wind blows vaguely from the east, lackadaisically over the fields of infertile blessing

The vacant stares of sunlight twisted a mind so lovely. Always tasting the lyric, should I stay or should I go, and letting it fester there under her tongue like a blooming blister. The ancient navigation of bone and blood stains always made her hungry. Today the hunger was for a fast oblivion into an old smudged Polaroid photo

the day played out of tune, a melody in discordant frenzy, an invitation to a bacchanal of satyrs and nymphs

round and round the world spins on its axis, in its orbit, around a tireless sun that longs to singe the edges

at the brink of spring she sat on a lily pad and floated down the stream, down down down towards the green

Hours always turn into a haze, especially repeating action after action of the day before and every day prior. Getting lost in the mundanity of conscious existence felt like counting to infinity and in every effort not to be lost in taedium vitae she would close her eyes in the face of it all and feel the green flower flesh under her finger tips. Whispering psalms in the darkness from the far corner of the cellar she wondered where fire-flow would land her.

every grain of sand in the desert carries the memory of the ocean in crystalline remorse as the sun beats mercilessly

the wind swirls the colors as she crosses from summer to autumn, headed down down down, green to red

dusk casts the same shadows as dawn in reverse symmetry along the fragility whispered in the edge of good byes

EC is the light that makes the world beautiful to me