Reality is a Stormy Fall

Mannequins loiter in trees
Camouflaged inside the canopy of leaves
That shivers in the last of the warm breeze
The tease of the southern run
Yields only a free fall
And a pyre of corpses
Image by aaron.bihari via Flickr
Through the rising heat
Plastic skin dances until seen
Then molts with many limbs
Empty without the fuel provided by pain
No longer resistant to the upward nature
Of unwanted resurrection

Unable to open eyes
That never existed
Blind to everything but hindsight
Heady dreams of cloudy gates
From such faux heights
Reality is a stormy fall