Gaea

(Your hands, your dress, such a pretty little mess
And the way that I stumbled over your neck.)
Devil-may-care legs bathed in your empty glass
As single malt marked your avid wavering ways
Then you stormed on us with livid days
Of ghost-like storks and stubborn preys
We crawled around merciless in your blackened dunes
Searching for mercantile solutions to these ruins
Anger built up in your half-sunk ship
A couple of aborted half-hearted revolutions
And while we stood there, struck by our sick absurdity
You struck yourself and killed us all