autumn leaves are my favourite kind of death. their wilting anticipated all year round and celebrated when they finally keel over die. corpses make the scenery so aesthetically pleasing that girls take pictures now instagrams littered with dead bodies Bon Iver. crunch under feet like bracken is bones waiting to be reborn in a few months after have fallen october done skeletons haunt streets. limbs pointing out at me almost crying for help. no one takes photos bare boned branches. death