There is nothing left 

but entertainment to daze 

and drain us all dry 

Pick your own poison 

whether pens or apples to 

spite with or spit out  

Time so taunting that

crawls at dawn but is breakneck 

by the evening's end 

The rocks are bare and 

brown missing the lake water 

that gave them cover 

Bullets bitten so hard

all you taste is metal and blood 

still the pain lingers 

The crystal-blue sky 

belies the coming storm that

carries mayhem with it 

The crane flies from the 

island, spooked by a gang of

rowdy, rough seagulls