and the world is
corrupt
and putrid and behind every corner
is a person plotting another’s demise
and i look up only to see swinging brown bodies
from the branches
dancing to the whistles of the wind
and the whites
seeing their downfall
from above their heads
the whites
afraid of the color they don’t know
the winds
up-taking their beings without permission
they nod as if they’ve done a noble deed
and i collapse from beneath the oak
from the stench of rotting flesh
and fallen hopes..