Picaro
Birds have become weary of these barren lands
The sounds which used to sweep these hills have been evicted
Leaving only a putrid silence to ward off any strays
Even the sun has grown deluded
Being held captive in this endless haze
Maybe I passed forty miles today
trailing the heels of twilights endless march
I wasn’t anticipating such a stripped atmosphere
The air is coarse
Progress is slowing
My asthma is scratching
And the inhalers are running low
The hollowing of my innards suggests I should turn back soon
Despite my precautions, these barren lands will dispose of me
Samples from this far afield will need time to acclimatise
But supplies must be replenished back on the south-bound trail
the coordinates where right
I was supposed to go up north
more to the north
where one might think he has lost his perception of hearing
the humidity tightens its clasp on the surrounding lands
leaving my boots immersed by each step I make
nobody dominates this rarely seen chaos
forgotten shapes - exploited behaviours
what felt like moments ago
back where entities justified times passing
I was sewing flowers in the fractures
of the river bed ran dry
Fluid alleys through what were once woodlands’
Now stagnate – burnt and unimpressed
Unable to seep through the generations membrane
Knowing nothing more than this new age end