A kid told me that I was older than the Moon -
which isn't true,
but it reminds me of the dream I had last night.

I was an advocate for the Heavens,
warning Earth to curb humans before it suffocates
under the weight of bubble wrap.
Eden is rotting
and the witches have all been burnt away,
no salves are available  for the blistering
except for Rapture.

Mars was once a utopia too,
but now look at it,
a graveyard.

Look at Earth's twin, Venus,
a cornucopia where maidens lounged on her bounty with their own, braiding each others hair with bottle caps and ribbons.
Now Venus burns in the fog of carbon dioxide, sifting through the ether
to retain some sort of consciousness.

I even reigned the Moon in to speak with Earth,
braced as she bucked her silver body against their chain,
craning away to preserve her body from the haze.

I woke with a belt of terrariums bound around my head,
haunted by the gravity of what I saw,
watching the birds wearily as they teetered on the telephone wire,

why do we have to wait to mourn something that is already dying?

The Sun spins with with skeletons.