Maps leading indiscretions astray,
Yet X marks the spot.
Spots where we place the ashtrays…
For burning hearts.

Grown out frustration,
Breeding sunshine hearts.
Manifest destiny...
Withered the sunshine to dark.
Born feeling dismay.

Golden, is an age.
It describes sought after rocks;
So sought after,
That pages were burnt black...
Until all words stopped.
We all just smile and nod.

Life a task that made the living question God.
Mechanisms malfunctioning,
Make-believing we don’t maraud...
Self-destructive humanity and the Earth interlocked.

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