Musics march.

Music rumbles in the back of my mind,

the words are unclear,

but the melody is insistent

as it marches across

the fumes of our existence,

picking up mutilations,

killings, the destruction of trees,

animals and whole ecosystems,

as greed punctuates the dance of death,

and the music growls in a low minor key,

I fight to extinguish it,

and wake up with words on the screen,

sweating with forebodings,

and I think of you my dearest,

and pling plong the music turns towards

its happy side and I smile Riley,

turn over and fall into a fitful sleep.


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