This Deserted Earth

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Where was I? I was with you and you were all alone. You dug deep and extracted what you needed. I expected nothing less and didn’t want anything back in return.
Upon the coast the claylings do dither and blister like gizzards pulled from spewing middles and deposited on the dry as left to lonely devices which include nothing forthcoming from mother’s womb furnace burns but does not scar as smelt dirt turns to cleansed dust and fortune smiles on grave concerns seemingly buried below or high out of sight as bark is peeled back and truth is used to edge away from a natural audience even as they fight and fumble for was it not that what is learnt needs to be forgotten as vanity takes hold and stone is rumbled? will we survive this deserted earth? what is there to be found to be allowed to make of it what you will nature is awkward during the beginning as flowers bloom and their heads swing low to appease thirsty roots well fed they still seem so sad so sad

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