Adrenal Flowing

It was a basic instinct. 
You wanted to become something- 
on unstable legs, hijacking my dreams 
for treason. 

Like an amputee- 
you were hobbling around 
to find the door of gold 
in the jungle of twists and breaches. 

Only a fathom depth 
you need to hide your cadaver 
of past sins. 

Scattering your seeds in vain 
all-night, the dawn was away, 
still waiting on the wings of tomorrow. 

The mourners with their quivering 
lips cannot sing an elegy.