That the birds are having to go to the sides of roads to find food, i notice on my lonely walks with them, they’re starving, virtual beggars
A sign our land is waning, her vitality sucked from her soul-breath, and im lovesick for you G, and im lovesick for my Great Mother’s illness
Us at the apex, we who suckle our own life from her breast, few of us realise how life is blessed
We never notice the worms, snails, ants, and insect biomass, we step on them, without a thought, or clue that soon we’ll feel the repercussions of all we do
I dont know if there’s time to buy, anymore, even if we could stop fighting, us who caused this, ere long enough to do something
But cheer up, raelene, back to our uncanny pot luck, in order to get a sighting of you, G, and i get my happy fix
In another life cycle, the washing machine on normal, you could have been Martha, i, Betty, and we’d have kids, the world black and white, and we’d have a happy life, fine, our love could save the world, and in bed with you, G, id find my bliss, If, only if – it was not all just an unsustainable, suburban fantasy of mine
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