the seeds fall
to clatter on the
hot conrete or
bounce off of the
roof of the car
little birds dart
through the air
catching them in
their beaks before
winking at me and
flying off into
the sanguine hints
of the swollen sun
as it tiredly sinks
towards the west
for a moment it
seems to be raining
in the cacophony
of falling seeds
but that is just
another slippery
illusion i cannot
let myself believe
like the daydream
these two and half
days will bring a
peace to my weary
papermache soul
that will last into
the silence when it
drapes its dark wings
to snuff the light
of the candlelit
heartblisters and
my screaming skull
of exquisite pains