Of Late.

-your instinct is lacking.
No more an open book than with
my soul-sorority;
I solely, solemnly watch our world decay.

The knowledge is intrinsic
of what you do
but rather than explain, or mend,
You hope it ravages; unnoticed.

What is it you’re running from?
What is it that’s changed?
A whisper in your heart;
- The Bays or Me.
Of course, you choose The Bays.

Your ship sets sail, (if not already),
And the decency of a decade
that should translate to honest explanation,
It falls; the tragic victim of Your decadence.

~

A once-favoured houseplant
Turns to the intensely-shining Sun;
And withers where Water does no longer run-
of late.