Inhospitable landscapes
And ****** canapés,
Give into grief
And metallic decay:
Your mind in situ.
Moral compasses compounded.

Green grows grey
Far swifter than you think.
In the blink of an eye
We'll see different skies.
A pale blue bloom
Will soon become doom and gloom,
And marigolds macabre,
Perfume of tulip and
Netherworlds of hubris,
Will consume the gold
And the grey.

Except
We're not there yet.
Giacommetti, Picasso and Muller foresaw:
We're all going to be ignored.

Ultimately.

A single state engrained into lore:
Deplorably thick custard creams
With a side of sea bream,
Quarter-loaf multi-seed bread
And half a shilling in the shed.

Unimaginable-
Immemorial.

Pass the headstone,
Don the frown.
The bright brown obelisk of fate
Awaits you now.