A Nightair’s breath whisper promise under sparse light of waning moon,
Unfulfilled & antisocial, with large surface conversations
offered & reciprocated in the interim,
awaiting adherence to the call to stall further loss of precious brain connections,
Undoes treacherous voices spelling a growing older, and a disquiet in the memories
of what has long come and gone.
Undone.
These things, I’m promised, are immaterial.
The avocado tree in my back garden has been lopped.
Chopped. Irradicated.
Removed from the stream of time. Downed.
Drowned in seaview psychosis. Gone forever.
Lying in pieces here on the lawn at 3AM.
Everything has come & gone, the slow death of this tree in pieces.
Everything is here & now & no longer. Here. Now.
Alone cold and dry, alone.
All is not light.
Hail to the Darkness tonight.
