The Escalating Deep

A withered and separated flower lay squashed in bent stature.The wind silently erodes the remaining petals sequentially, with each pulse of the air. A distant nightmare, tangibly manifested, the echoing warning from the past. A trapped piece of newspaper married to a low-lying hedge branch, concealed from notice, dead from purpose. An hourglass society, scuttling around in organized vice and engineered hypocrisy with time to dictate and money to distract. A plague of opinions in this boundless possibility never reaching bedrock. A gash made upon the earth, a slow puncture untreated in our hourglass existence we believe isn’t moving.