long before the dust settles i will begone

i am attached and so i must break from here, the money is running out anyway. 

into a cave, a white cave, square and a high ceiling.  down a long white corridor, not far.

spring is here, the trees show it, with little crinkled leaves and maroon fur seeds.

it is nescersary to break from these attractive places sometimes,

to push ourself back into the unknown, far from the comforts of familiar.  

trying bit by bit to relieve the strong grip a money hungry city has 

sucking at everything with its proboscious, taking the blood of others

and grinding it down to make its meal.