AESTHETICS OF DECAY

Grey dust settles on the stream

The swing goes on and on there

The skeletons of steel and glass

Evening, dusk and twilight zone

To cleanse your soul anew,

Fumes draw lines in salty seas

A long shaft to unknown lands,

And minds gone free and wild.

Bashed brains on belly beaches,

We saw that elven moon so bright

It never showed signs of being there