crumbling world falls through my hands. in my mouth taste bitter sands. grass is burning, pulse is slow. drip by drip my back- wards growth ....crawl fade to hate. and I'll die within my fade- wine, song, women, birth – this deflowered mother earth planting, plowing, how she grieves. the seeds that grow these dying trees. Crawl... fade to hate. and I'll die within my fade