Another flailing eve,
passing seasons grieve
as life’s wonders bleed –
into you – into I…..
And what colors are these bloods?
As we watch them leech the soil
to erode our greatest toil –
Do we care?
Does it matter to you that I flail in their waves?
That these nasty bloods should drown me, snuff me?
That I am just another soul who has come and gone before,
That my existence is nothing.
We swallow the bloods because we must –
digest them before they overcome us.
We taste their bile and yet survive,
Because your own drowning doesn’t lessen my need to be.
There are those who bleed,
and those who need…… love.
But it isn’t here.
There’s nothing but blood.