A moment to relax in the wreckage of the world,
No sound but the wind,
passing over bones, bandages, dust...
Rats and roaches creep past dank chaos,
alabaster skulls in the sorrowed sun's glare.
Bleak winds shoulder the ash of the late world into void.
Everything unbinds, fragile fibers ripping with no solid ground to root them.
Lonely I sit amidst the tombs of us all,
diseased and decaying from decades before.
I saw it in a dream.
Tip Jar- Ya know, if you feel like it... [link]