Left alone writer`s island #20 last redwood

Landscapes once green and vibrant with color now have become barren.
Languid dreams are no longer mine. I am all alone to remember the beginning . . .
Lifeless extensions hanging from a corset of time sprouting nothingness . . .
Landfills gather at the basin of my feet. And tangle hysteria with fear.
Lurking vultures want my flesh for theirs and plant seeds in cored-out worm holes.
Leaning slightly to the proximity of the height, gravity has pulled me closer to the earth.
Leaves on my arms have disintegrated. Lost in the putrid air of destruction.