1341.

Tonight my throat is
full of the world's emotions.
Choking and stuttered.

1340.

Want confused with need
as acquisition becomes
the only purpose.

1339.

The spoiled fruits we
take so for granted. Nations
of the gluttonous.

1338.

Still, the stacked glory
of history holds its own
recognition here.

1337.

Such cold comfort a
memory can hold against
heart's pervasive grief.

1336.

If only the loss
could quantify its meaning
in fruition.

1335.

One day's surfeit on
paper honors before the
return. Loss and death.