No fish bit today, such as it has been every day since finding myself alone. I can no longer count the days it has been since I last heard the lyrical song of a bird flying over or the curious deep bark of a dog in a neighboring yard or the wet spout of a whale on a journey of ancestral instinct. No flowers have sprouted, all grass has withered and turned to blackened dust. Jungles turned to deserts, redwoods became splinters. 

No brush or greenery grew over the remnants of the cities and neighborhoods and villages of the world. They simply fall, to allow the stinging wind to bury its corpse alongside the billions of others who used to roam within them.

Oceans rage and ravage the coastlines. The land shrinks inch by inch with every force of the sea. Waves crash ferociously against the shores of the world in furious tall white capped fists that I knew once could never hold a desire or purpose but I now know it is revenge. Some day, hundreds or thousands or millions of years from now, her rage will come to an end as the planet shines blue again. 

I hope to be around to see that happen, but today I still smell the rot.