Three clouds in the sky joining hands

I talked to the tree. The tree said, “No, I’m fine. That’s alright. Thanks”
and then filmed over itself a purple covering in which others could see him
but he could see no one else. He did not want the embarrassment of being seen
talking to me. I unhooked my ride and drove to the stern metropolis-seasoned divide.
Just like treason. Just like a dreaded wedding, God disappointed me. Where were my candles?
Why did I have to go through this to begin with? How can they say you are Good
when society is so violent? Some of us are beyond scarred to name a few. Yes.
The trauma of life. The consented end of it for the whole 2/3 of it.
Just like a space show. Just like an inoculated wound. Like a caffeinated map.
They were put into our daily water that we make our morning coffee with.
And what I now know. That none of you will put a second sound of this.
No matter how God healed society. And I was telling the truth.
The whole damn time.