I
The sea of blue swept forward
surging towards reprieve, mindless and unthinking
like sand caught in the undertow.
He understood.
He stood in a world of the past
sweaty brows and tears of ruby red
never ending
It had been over before the clock had made a full rotation
leaving them empty, both of them
He joined the current
And was swept away.

The trees cried tears of fire and the geese flew south.

II
There was a tinkling of glass as the world shattered, falling in drops of molten lead
around him. Singeing his skin like the tears had. It was nothing to the inferno of his
heart; creeping down the pulmonary artery and spreading to every tendril of his being.
His fingers are bloody, constantly scraping, cupping the pieces of humanity to his chest
and trying to glue them together without evidence.

It never works.

III
The air smelled wet,
the water condensing and running like rivers
down the leaves. Rivers that ended infinity.
Rivers that lead home

IV
The wind swirled a tunnel of protection
A glass through which one could be seen but not touched
A glass that instilled a false security and quelled the panic
In their spines, anesthetizing hearts
It was silent, save a slight whistling, a lullaby to the afflicted who sat,
back to back to back to back their spines
The fortification of another body reassuring as they stared into emptiness
There had been a light once, so bright it had burned retinas
Now there only remains a rancid smell over the world,
a metallic tang of sadness, and sand-course-grounding.

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