Frozen planets, whose trees no longer sway Stark, motionless concrete chill where winds have died and all is still Echoes of the ghosts of life, like the gusts of a leaf taunting gravity - In its descent from naked, outstretched bark genitalia. In awkward angles against the slate blue skies - The blue of haunted warehoused machines, who long for lives that they wouldn’t know what to do with… “No sunsets here Just rotations of different distant moons and skewed melting of lights hue. Burned out stars, like butted cigars. Pieces of shattered homes, oceans misled into suns.” Divisive sciences come and go – lost signals in sullen grey glow (Your empty words.)