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The Violent Gust of Generation

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The end is drawing closer, the water defies its natural laws Bending to my will and anger The sea grows a heart and lungs as I form its mind The wind breathes my name, the leaves fall with my cadence Yet still disillusioned by my own fortuitous creation In the hellish womb My purpose as ever-changing as what comprises me A cacophony of a thousand laughing voices My synapses fail to their mortal architecture before wooden vines seize the chance to cage me The consciousness fractures once more... I feel the leaves before me leave my form, fighting my mimicry Stone liquefies and binds me Burrowing into my inorganic flesh If I had a face, I would smile... The laughter quiets as I succumb to an existence devoid of me A premonition coming to fruition, that my curse will die with me As I fade my form dissociates I wait, yet the fabric breathes with me I am all