A bubble inside,
Beauty of voids over scars,
Replaces my heart

i would describe my dream to the moon but all it would hear is a description of you

gnarly wooden tentacles
itch at Earth's gritty soul,
puncture its spongy surface,
& descend into the deep.

the strands of juvenile oak
maneuver the hickory soil,
strangle desolate tectonic pipes,
& ravenously slurp the dwindling liquid within.  

this is how it began.

slithering branches hiss at the sun,
& suffocate the placid sky in  
crusty juniper leaves;
like infantry banners they flutter
triumphantly in the erratic, apocalyptic air.

beneath them lies the fractured animal kingdom,
scavenging on rationed rain and sunlight
drizzling through the foliage gaps;
this is the cost of conquest,
punishment for a war unwisely waged.
humanity spurred by ambition
falls victim to the wrath of the forest
& subsequently into eternal darkness.