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1000 and more days alone

tend to the garden after morning's perimeter check

the crocus come and stay longer every year

it's as if they cherish their time with me as much as I do them

the avocados, always so smooth

he will enjoy them, as always, even though now his bones

are becoming so old and brittle that I must not

I have grown to become his vessel.. he would have wanted it this way

we do not miss our supposed home where they are falling into hell

lands not fit for men leave few places to escape to

I saved us from certain horrors

my searches prove the world has left nothing for me

I'm fully expecting it all to come back to me one day

for a brief moment i'm reminded, that i'm awful

this is awful

this life is not to be lived as such

where is my garden?