Just for the case you weren't aware, I did know one that always cared
With me about my woes and separate passions than just those of the
Elm and arts and bark and scream. What else could I need to be
Fixed of this world so bleak and blackened bludgeoned by the nature-
All order in the sky! - of the human race?

Yet this strange feeling does remain since that poor man's dying day;
It's since from others long forgot about their purpose pinning plots
Towards kindling spirits of the night to heights that rise into the lights
For only ostracism can enlighten the now young minds - Away, Requiem!
The rhyme for you, she's all I've known, other than your teachings, and all
I can offer until I sing with you - whence, falter on through.

From plane to plane, and none by none
The circle trails towards all but one,
For seeing Deaths could not prevail
The night's cool mist and Dewey Hail.

To the Gods that soar with thunder,
Straight edge wing, we'll bring asunder-
Fragments: aluminum and iron-
With mossy cellars rusting pyres.

Daybreak screams, alike my notebook,
With the hopes: Eternal Outlook,
And smoke-emitting plants and cars,
And night-birthgiving lights and bars,
All set dim, fluorescence unseen.
But in broad day? Our shame will scream.

Further! Muster, lavished Brother
In Greed, who forces towards plunder
Mine and mine companion's others
Times, sepulchers, decent gestures.

To learn to hate the natural shrub
Is same to love the rust we rub
From decay of Louis' Arc,
Death, humanity soon embarks.

The yellowed dome cracks upon the surface
Of the moistened soil that stretches  to make
Their way, emphatically filling most base
Space between dried stubs of flesh - never fake
Fruitless fingers - cracking, brushing, but now
Healing by comforting the path I pursue
          With the wake of the rooster.

Home left warming behind, I gallantly
Saunter toward more humid, fume-fed airs
While leaving the thoughts that so quaintly
Filled my head, forgot to ingrain, and failed,
          Allowing growth to myself.

Sun hung, high-noon, the dew fades all too soon
Creating a creaky concoction kept
Together (of sounds) by bare breaking-bones
Feet against gravel, dusty, rocky steps.

Sky set so wearisome and pink, I fall
To my knees in the midst of high terrain
Marked by thin grasses and rolling hill plains;
As I beg for mercy, not from this all-
Endowed sight, but from God(s) who seem only
To make this life right - I'll collapse further,
My hands move mountainous dirt and holy
Diadems of twig, while I decide - worth
          When shall I dig?