Toxic Confusion

Toxic Confusion

The Gregorian chants fell
on a flock of soundless wings.
Autumnal fragrance fills the air
with a longing for winter's
stark white nakedness.

In that hungry wind, skyward,
deafening thoughts are flung.
Peace and love, war and hate
create an indiscriminate
mixture of madness.

Ecologically speaking,
I am a threat to the ozone.
my confusion wears away at the firmament
creating a toxic cloud
and staining the sky with melancholia.

Spores of morbid thought
will eat away at the blue of the sky
until all that is left
will be an incredible darkness.