Sadly coming back to a forgotten life something waits quietly a formless voice calls with colors thoughts that don't belong asking who the predatorial hands of trees reach for fog of rotting hands climbing shaking broken teeth from the leaves beware the harsh, unyeilding light waiting it's promises are pools of acid these promises they make are pools of blood they surface from the lake to watch tired cries evaporate pulled by the temples into arctic indifference they swim in green prisms exposed brick withers to dust gripping streams of bursting static no dignity lays trapped under fallen limbs if it invades your blood it will hunt down your nerves and spread fires dread of the fumes now unfastened and rolling under the bellowing pleas of helpless wind the trees preside