Patient and drawn.
Folding in on itself like a bud.
The fools follow the sun-drenched sky.
Bleeding into azure and altered states.
And still it waits.
Buried underneath itself with bones and bewilderment.
Biding time, or disappearing.
Only it knows.
The wind shakes the senses.
Flowing through like ghosts.
Shivering into consequence.
The moon sprouts in the sky.
Delivering wildness and chaos.
Even the stable must bend and sway.
Giving way to momentary derailment.
Liberation now proceeds defiance.
Yet it will come.
Against the others, against the trappings.
Words and stares which batter and bruise.
Into the night it drifts, it creeps.
Surveying survival.
Nothing now, or ever, to lose.
Havoc and Consequence 