Fibonacci Sequence

He waited for a chaste moment. The kind you share only with yourself. The smaller branches on an old tree haven enough for all the dead leaves he was ready to drop. The pales of dandelions. the shrug of tall grass. The future in random burps. The past in an endless coin toss.

He said he was tired. The barometer of lust dipping accordingly. He said he was too old. The broad strokes of age painted on us like white clown faces.

In little guillotines no bigger than an angel must be. We watched the beheading. The parade of corpses like flower petals being questioned. The liars and the angels all merging into one great addiction.

the bold nest we built upon its peak. Assuming someday we would fall from it. As every great monster must kill its maker.

The sum of the sum of the sum of.