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Let them have it; it's theirs

 Beauty goes out of the world and it's only the beating of flesh that fills the air. It's only the moaning of some whore made good by the bank balance of a richer man. Let them bang on at it. Let the flesh smells rot the air. As for this withering part of the tree, As for me:  I will enjoy the last rays of the sun.  People are such a disappointment.
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stones to ruin

But as for we...
We are not being killed
 instead
the hills are rolling away
into darkness.
The girl stood in the ruins
In that little black dress of hers. 
I was on the outskirts of town.
Was somewhere else. 
The girls who knew me 
Were never fond. 
But she
Stood for myth and for 
Treasures yet unfounded. 
For confidence in the depths.

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