Whistles blew as sharp winds sang through leafless branches
Red lights flashed as swords of bright lightening ripped
the sky in two
Tears flowed from sorry eyes while black clouds rained down buckets

Shades pulled on rheumy eyes as stars burned themselves out
Life leaked out of him and pooled on maple floors
Rainbows turned to ashes blanketing the earth
Footsteps through the ashes mark his journeys end



I open the door and step into an atmosphere
of carmelized sugar
Thick and sticky walking through molasses
Breath lodged in my lungs
I struggle to lift my feet and retreat,
back into my self imposed prison

When will this rain end?
Forty days and forty nights,
air smells of mold and mildew
I flop back into my chair and resume
staring at walls



I drop you feet first into the hole I’ve dug for you
Backfill the hole with soil and clomp the dirt
with my muddy boots, packing you in.
Will this become your grave or will you flourish here?
Displaying my horticultural endeavor for all who see