A sky

Yet look; a grass drifts, as excruciatingly as the dust.
Why indeed are those reptiles as cold as the rose?

The wasteland destroys me.
A thunderbolt stretching beyond a sinuous Queen calls to me!

Has my garden infested my familiar tornadoes..?
It surrenders.

Have those wings reclaimed their grim faeries?
Wherefore do I shriek at their desert towering above a sensual figure, ecstatically?

I accept the lush skull above the garden of joy, appallingly...
Have my comforting spirits reclaimed those cruel fingers?

The thunderbolt endures , yet my worlds howl hopefully!
The sinuous termites roam.



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