Broad faced sunflowers bow compliantly. Sheepish clouds float above withering fields of overripe fruit awaiting winters burial. Lungs bursting, my eyes a salty sea, I am racing through seasons folding one onto the other like a bewildered child escaping the night. My throat is a choke of blood stained words I want to scream to the universe, wait for their echo back, but the earth is too tender to endure this despair. Reality has lost it’s grip, it hurts to fall into the truth, it is here I learn the meaning of used. There is nothing I care to do about it.