The last flower
unable to flee
the earth I see
as I unfold
feeling lite petals
ready to be plucked.

The final fraction
of unscorched skin
unwetted with red lines
or bulging bruises,
the ****** flesh
that I never let
you touch

The dead wood
brown and broken
mushrooms growing
with rings of age exposed
cause they took the top
and left the rest
to rot and drop.

The subtraction of
the howling instincts
that are urging me
to keep collecting
useless things,
the growling beasts
that are hurting
and hunting me
demeaning while
devouring
my well-being.