Black trees swaying in the wind

Cold darkness surrounds

Though shiver is absent

Pressure differentials bellow for the trees

The forest is a chorus

Singing a cluster chord

Like a mirror-eyed girl laying on all the keys

The pipes sing, every chord being played

One pipe, one note, is missing

She stares into your eyes                                                                               (although you could never tell)

Only to offer an image of yourself

Howling with the black trees


A last breath exchanged with metabolized air

Death taps the veins in your throat

Vanity mixed with survival

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