No More Tree to Hug


The calm before…someone else’s storm.

The path after…someone else’s storm.

Perchance, a place where none belong.

Either route…

Sometimes gentle.


Could be…

This is a hand…of extinction,

played wrong.



No, hysterical waif could produce this wake.


No, bias to her game.

No, storm will produce…her name.

Soon, mortality will relinquish our fame.


Too soon.

No massive emptying will suit all needs.

No more…

Later, for bluffing our dirty deeds.


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