Nostrils flare at the stench of a fruit long forgotten.
Palms start sweating at desires overwhelming.
Sick with aggression...
Violent, coveted whims.
Hard, blunt axe is thrust into tree's flesh,
breaching bark and breaking wood.
Crevice ripped anew.
Oozing forth the trunk bleeds crimson sap.
Branches are weeping, leaves dying.
Vile axe hacking at the initial wound.
Engorged hatched dripping with tree's vital fluids
and wound's own resin.
Forgotten fruit lie strewn on the ground just within
malicious arm's reach.
Brief joy, but then hate. Filled with self-loathing.
"It's as though I'm a zombie, I feel no pain.
Leprosy's finally broken me.
I'm a beast, disturbed and insane!"
Roots, soil and grass die away, defiled by the tree.
Skies blacken and weep down rain out of sympathy.
Splintered wood lies all around, pieces of the object
of this imagery... this dying tree...