The swaying willow I tremble against wares at my frail touch, as a feasting night engulfs my every heaving breath. Death’s narcotics stain my drying lips, his battery acid blood lurches deep within. Eyes so drunk and wasted in my delirium, I arch in silent utterance with soaked face, beaten to ruin and bathed in sweat. So profuse are death’s nails, as his jagged claws vice my throat shut and proceeds to punish. The willows motherly skin catches a broken man. My fading face sludged in midnight and secret poison, collapses to the tree’s aid.

A precious night flickers in earnest, as my legs so shredded to numbness lie idle to my aching lungs. The goddess tree cradling my deteriorating spine and worthless flesh hovers as a spirit dissipating within the mist of a blanketing sky blazoned in studded stars. Her curling hands inch soft and delicately across my broken chest. Each loving finger tip sliding across every cracked rib and shattered muscle, lulls the pain to rest soaked with her motherly essence, as milky dreams flood and cloak the skin.

My dying lips parched of life, and stolen with deaths hands struggle to speak with agony accompanying every cloudy plea. Murky eyes glazed in silicone and oil stare onward into a dazzling frenzy of florescent stars and godly galaxies, dancing for one person. And only one person, the worthless wretch dying beneath a motherly willow. The empty soul slumbering within this rusted machine and in the rush of this chaos, of this leather fitted pain. My soul will
rest in the elegance of Mother Nature’s name.