At odd wars with every grain of sand,
relentlessly screwing its way
from in between the colourless longitude
underneath my tired eyelid,
through the haunted solitude
of my tormenting visions,
dreams long due…

I’ve lost all my brothers,
and all my sisters to kitchen tongs
and other rusty, surgical contraptions,
courtesy of hellbound asteroids
from the firmament dividing
no man’s land,
and no god’s heaven…

Each year, trees remember;
rings telling tales of despair
and deceit,
hoping to grow older than
the suffocating embrace
of their own,
dying leaves…