Dwindling

Fireflies emit post traumatic
notions of existence,
fleeting glimpses of time
never to occur in physicality again,
yet they are carved deep within thought.

All the while sanguine cities burn
and lobed plains yearn for rain
to pardon cheeks.

Reminiscent gears begin to turn,
welcoming sinister thoughts with
worried arms - arms that tremble, ache,

Hesitate.

Needles trace sutures tearing
under spectral pressure,
seemingly beautiful in macabre nature,
memory strikes a chord distilling sensation
out of gaping wounds and splintered morals.
Still the thread catches every nail
just as the meadowlark calls to waning day,
and the grooves in oaken flesh no longer
recall tranquillity's childish impressions.

The lull of twilight devours effulgence
sparing no lambent visitor for
the mind is lost in the absence of a

Spark.