when the wind is the only communicator
and all others are vacant spaces
where all words spoken are somehow lost
this is the time of changing
great upheavals and mountains becoming plains
deserts turned into rivers
here is a tornado whisked from the deepest depth
and a silence left in its passing.

dry mouth
empty well
no beauty
to speak of
all is lost
gone somewhere
out of reach
no door
to exit
to enter

Late at night sadness covers up my skin, ivy
on the old bricks of an abandoned mental hospital,
broken windows, we stopped needing help years ago,
and this place is just as scary empty as it was full
expect when the doors were open the crazies
would come and go, I swear it made the stay
a little more tolerable