A violet aura fades to indigo along the skyline.
The drug of anger, and euphoria, are extinguished—
everything that gives me purpose
is extinguished.

Extinction appears, on the twilit road,
dressed in a hooded, knee-length raincoat;
implacable as a stop sign, they point across the verge,
to an untrodden stretch of rough terrain.

Given a face, extinction becomes someone who might
be reasoned with; someone who may let you walk on,
to enjoy the scent of jasmine,
and soft music playing.