fickle and critical
like death and lower living
a fog machine blows smoke through an alien burial ground
you trash your gifts but the smell remains
seasons change, odors exchanged
with repulsing ginkgo leaves
U will die alone
there is no glory in death
we trample crimson leaves, bleeding sunset
what makes you any different?
we coddle our children and drown their pets
we hate, death and
resentment breaks the surface tension of toilet water
freed in death from your own judgement
we the judicious have decided
U will die alone