Part 2 - Dog End ( or Trilobite as it was to be...)

Mulch mouth,
A man with autumn teeth,
Yellows, browns and bright red gums,
Purveyor of dog end divinations,
The gutter futures.
Spoke.

“Bring me the ashes of your shattered dreams,
I’ll gift you some dust,
From corners of an infamous box.”

Some robber clouds,
Stole the sun,
Hiding it away,
In a grey black sack.

Scarred Girl replied,

“Tell of the Dead girl,
‘Perfume of roasted biker,
All singed hair, burnt flesh,
With hints of leather, petrol and petuli’”

Mulch mouth,
Soon to be winter mouth,
All barren and bare.

“Nay child that’s for different climes”

A herd of wild leaves scattering
Panicked by approaching predator wind.