The cold winds whispered freely across the dead empty land
Sending up swirling, boiling clouds of black sand and dust


Fat flakes of black ash fluttering through the dead air
Speckled with spits of grey snow
The man stumbled through the endless, featureless lands
Clutching at a bloodstained jacket
His feet sinking into the loose and shifting sands

The man stumbled drunkenly a few feet and fell to his knees
He sat panting, the cold air burning the back of his mouth
The dim sun hung in the dark sky
The man sat on the cold ground
Pressing his dirty, tattered coat to the bleeding bullet hole beneath his ribs
The lands around him were lonely and god forsaken

A single dead tree stood on the horizon
The man licked his cracked lips and lifted himself from the ground
He stumbled forward again, towards the tree, drifting in and out of reality