I sit outside in the rocking chair,
staring at the motionless clouds
in the distance, how their misty
existence is mirrored on the
surface of my soul, how their
faded hues flow in brokenness
around my flesh.  The sun is
sinking in the backdrop of the sky,
shifting in a wall of shadowed
darkness.  I can feel the rustling
wind moving upon me as my dreary
eyes circle around the swollen
landscape.  The immense fields
are bleeding beyond restoration,
gasping, quivering in solemnness –
stuck in dead air.  The deer have
abandoned the land, vanishing
in a maze of hazy scenery.
And as I gaze at the sleeping trees,
scattered leaves lying down under
a labyrinth of dim depictions,
my body is branching off towards
dried up plantations.  I can’t escape
this pain that steady haunts me
every breaking day.  I can still see
their terrifying faces in my sight,
their darkened canvases a harbor
of nightmares stealing away
my innocence, polluting my mind
with toxic chemistry, making me
die a little inside as I inhaled all
their damaging diction.