Sitting on the Brink

It's a broken world we live in; Land of the fallen and the bereft. Internalized suffering for that which gives us sustenance; Earth and ashen forests lay bare before us.

I retreat to the waters; Salty bodies mirror clear. Infinitesimal gifts wrapped in kale, scale, and glassy eyes.

Irrigation is futile when there is no seed to sow; Damp soil and greens next to null. In the hopes of bringing my self salvation I intake; A rancid breath of stale air.