Flee worn wooden life.
The clock counts down the minutes.
Old draping yellow thrown
The ancient king sits in it.
All great minds have walked this maze
Pale beneath the sun light.
She holds her wicked eyes
unmoved upon their shoulders.
Autumn came to my back yard
And the leaves rained down like leather.
Vanity fell to the thankless ground.
The naked trees cried to their brothers.
I walked among the bodies of summer
The hardened shells of bees.
I found myself in cold despair
For they had found their peace.
I cradled needless jealousy
For their ceaseless state of sleep.
