The black aorta spills its blood
and the unspoiled trees perish in its blotchy ink.
Acid rain bleeds from the smog filled sky,
scorching the Earth.
Trash metastasizes on the shore,
and I cut myself on broken beer bottles;
sea glass is no longer beautiful.
The world is spinning
but too fast.
I beg for it to slow,
but the Earth ignores my words.
We don’t understand.