the dying green foliage wraps the mountain like a torn and tattered blanket. beneath–dry dusty earth. above–a sky so utterly bright and blue that it looks as phony as those catchpenny paintings sold to suckers on the boardwalk. another day in paradise. sameness and soullessness masquerading as niceness.

Helios’ beggarly voice (can you not hear him begging for your gratitude?!) does not drown out the whispers of extinction. i will not pray to you. shameless thief–this is not your season! i will hunt you down, plunge this pen into your belly and drag it up toward your throat. i will take the hot sticky mess that spills out of you, lay it on a stone and pray for rain. a humble rain that will not shame me. a rain to which i will grant my gratitude freely.

look away for a second (I know how badly you wish to gaze at your worshipers) and i will murder you while wearing a smile. i will be here waiting…

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