There looms a great gravel giant above the corner of
The here and the beyond. And from the valley beneath,
The slowly setting sun seems to melt into the pavement.

But if you stand on the grating of the
Corroded gutter that is wasting away, the world
Appears to drop into oblivion after the crest.

It is certain that if you begin the
Arduous, tiresome ascent, you too will vanish
And plunge into oppressive darkness.

So you plant your stubborn heels and
Decided that life is alright
In the valley of grays and blues.

And you sleep though your days.
And those days become months.
And those months become years.

Slowly, silently, patiently,
Suffocating fog swallows you
Until what remains is but a pair of broken wings.