Gene Trees

What say you, when the rent is due? Why shrill squalid souls for cheap wine? Your children await greens and bread, swollen stomachs of dark unrest. Ghosts permeate their seams of wood dry-rotted, while termites seek skin of the oppressed, daunting failed light, happy in joyless dreams, do tell? Graves tremble with resurrecting grace, revealing hard pale secrets told to wander the halls of minds uncovering disgraces of blood. Welcome pain and celebrate you, open the portals of the gene tree.