Seasoning
Dank old forest walkway
Dripping branches tap my head
Senses feed these thoughts
Aware of the not quite dead
Aroma of life expiring
Sounds carry decrepit din
Once bathed by vivacity
Shriveled beneath vapid skin
Deconstruction’s beasts settle in
Eons to harvest this sadness
The motionless of the grieved
Deliver with seasoning, madness
EaS
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Seasoning
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