Leaning to die

The gate leans against the farmer

Digging into a sack of history

Stained with the smells of youth

That transparent, darkened raindrops

Have failed to fade into obscurity


Desperate to talk to the flesh of a dinosaur

Slowly rotting away under armour plated skin

Keeping out cold as bacteria thrives in warm flesh

Eating him alive, inside to out

Slowly killing him as time passes by


The gate watches, listening to the farmer

Sigh with nicotine filled lungs

Black with tar, a hole from no escape

Life is sucked in a one way passage

From this life to the next

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