I was Grinding a hill to nullify my melancholy
The noon was slurry, White coulds strided away distantly
Harmony of the wind was a discrete cacaphony
I stowed plants into my pockets in a desperate need of green

Walked a few memory lanes across a dead blackened sea
Little fishes drifted ashore bored being aquatic
Tides high and shimmering
Capsized boats devoured by the gravity
Mermaids on an exodus with blue whales bulged in their bellies
Surfer paddling one arm, another arm resting between a shark's' teeth
Mr. Slow death bleeding, the passion sport bleeding

Pterosaurs dropping the bombs carrying Russian drones
Mutilating the young men, bleeding the war zone

Ran towards the north pole
It's snowing and seclusion is bliss
Radiohead music in loop
Everyday is a little apocalypse


©turmoilmoon