There is a man here.
He offers you hopes and dreams.
His voice crackling from between the leaves.
Dull and slow.
As shadows grow.
An egg is passed furtively to your hands.
Lonely, forgetten, with no demands.
And you feel your skin, as it sloughs.
Melting away, between the boughs.
You feel a lingering sense of dread.
Do you remember what he said?
