Poison Leaves

At this moment life is a child

swaying in its attempt to walk

without falling to its knees and screaming,

Help me daddy.” Daddy left for Tulsa.

He’s dancing with a reaper,

carelessly throwing breath to the wind.

His lovers will die before Autumn leaves

touch the summer scorched grass.

Is it time now daddy?

I cannot say Apocalypse. My lips are blue.

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