FLAKES

FLAKES.

MISERABLE OLD FLAKES.

CRUMBLING AT THE SIGHT OF AUTUM WINDS AND BROWNING LEAVES.

WEAK MATERIAL, NOT WORTH THE TOUCH OF MY GENUINE HUMAN SKIN.

YET I CRAVE THESE BROKEN DOWN, 

WITHERING PIECES OF NOTHING.

THE LEAVES STROLL FORM PILLAR TO POST.

I LOVE THESE LEAVES , BUT THEY LEAVE ME.

THEY LEAVE ME ALL AONE IN THIS COLD  BLISTERING WEATHER.

WITH NOTHING BUT MY THIN UNCARING SKIN AND MY HOPE FOR LOVE AND WARTH .

BUT NOT THESE ROOTS

THESE ROOTS STICK TO ME LIKE BLOOD SUCKING LEECHES, CLINCHED TO THE SOLAR PLEXUS OF A FENDLESS ANIMAL.

BUT WHY DO I ADORN THESE FLAKES?

THEY USE ME UP UNTIL I AM NO MORE AND I CRAWL BACK LIKE A SLITHERING SNAKE.

HELPLESS AND HOPELESS.

WHY DO I LONG FOR THE SENTIMENT OF THESE SELF LOAHING CREATURES ?

CREATURES WHO DO NOT LOVE THEMSELVES ENOUGH TO RESERVE A PINCH OF LOVE IN THEIR HEART FOR ANOTHER LIVING ORGANISM. 

I CANNOT LEAVE THESE ROOTS 

ALTHOUGH THEY LEAVE ME IN THE SUMMER AND COMFORT ME IN THE FALL

I STILL NEED THEM