Fine things lining pockets
And flawed gems from a faucet
It took a month to mar the clauses
long forgotten fiends and flowing
Nature lost scenery

It might be menial, but if I don't like the imagery
I'd use a run on and run on, running on
Fumes like carbon clouds, bowing at the center
Of the hopelessness I've found

Of moths and flame, danger and wanting
Nature and harboring diseases and watching
Crystalline precipices overblown from cold
Rain, eroding stone long since lain

Homes blown through in half a day
Another half century laid waste
Forage a new course for the streams
The selfish, like me only disagree

Despite the discontent
Restless nights and fires burning low
Into the biting air, a show of flair
Its not right, or fair to vent

Hollow, it would seem
Still stable, the ecosystem of
Constant change
Trying to be heard over a flood of filth

Tidal waves painting fields
Recessing long since venerated guest
Retaking ocean lost to sandy beaches
And kids with half a dream left in them
I spent my last penny on a whim