Crimson leaves, falling
The words echo through my eyes like a torrid horror, acres sprawling
Trials and experiments melt to the moment like aged men, recalling
Times when the world mother wasn’t squished like another
Venture without worth, an ointment for crushed souls and city burdened pains,
Meant to smother worries rather than grow and heal the human frame
Young Sensei whispered his wisdom to ears focused on a test, heart in disrepair,
More worried about institutions and unnatural numbers than the pervading rips and tears
In a modern reality, pervading every sense of time and love in searches for constitutionality and,
Weary, I turn to this triangle of wooded land,  I know not the angles nor the sides, wary
Of compartmentalizing my time,
As I’ve tried not to learn from speakers forged in metals and mined
For popular commercial success that cuts into me,
Me, a mut of internet influence and experiences some drown in wines,
Others sketch their messes of personal Valentines
To a world dwindling and dying to screeching infants and cinderblocks
And so they fall, crimson blood of a wounded and dying beast
Muted yellows and dry browns surround my downhearted outpost before the deceased
World, and so

like man
  
  
         nature

falls

         down.