I can’t stop myself.. But I’ll stop now..

There are no words, only scattered branches.. that once held leaves..

A trail of blood in the form of mirages.. scars like green.. nature is the only healer..

The doctor is for doctrine.. we mend our wounds with currency.. we pay for our sins with more sins..

We travel forward while only looking back.. salt can only taste sweet when attached to flesh.. we burn the first, to see the last..

Our breath holds more water than what we drink.. And the dream leads along a journey where the lighted path ends in the blanket of grey snow..