days, weeks, yesterday begun

Grass tall
deathly still now
no breeze to inspire its flailing, bending dance

no life in this stone
only names
maybe ours?
probably
written yet?
centuries ago

eons ago

as unwavering as monochromaticity

INHERENT.

We are in this process
just wait
this monsoon of inevitability
which we know as abstract and far away
will rape our daughters
and fuck our wives while we watch.
howling
"bless unwavering ignorance"

Cliche' to say
but end is a beautiful word
and is near.
not how we want
but how we
FEAR.