• infinite moroseness keeps me on the outskirts of sanity. i wake, and my eyes bleed revelant justice.
    just for you. just for me. finally, in the meandering, dusky plains, i can lay down in the grasses.
    metaphysics aside, i notice my imprint in the grasses; wilted and green, both alive and dead.
    i can appreciate that mentality. it is the same one that haunts my dreams; that resurrects my vitality.
    now, i lay on my back, and have a staring contest with the clouds, but they grow winded by my game.
    and instead, i return to my reveries of silent, black and white childhoods. only red in between the frame.
    after a few moments, the mucky woodlands calm my name. both in cartograpy and consistency. similar.
    i sit forward, surprised no time has passed. this pastoral paradise is parading as the paragon of society.
    i stand on my feet, they aren't rooted as thoroughly as i had once hoped. instead, green twigs.
    no more resolutions of mistaken reverses, or windy traverse. even if this is where the dandelions grow.
    i have to leave this field. i have to cross the plain, through the grasses and eventually, back to trees.
    whiskered trees with the long white needles reach out to both embrace and impale, unerringly.
    the sighs of the mountains fill my lungs, i take the whispering waters' words into my head and return.

    inside, there is a tangle of living brush. it rustles, and makes me shiver and shake with fear.
    i don't think about the comparison or perceptions of this type of nature; where the sun is set.
    i miss the old place, and how i used to hate it. how it was everything i knew and didn't know in one.
    up ahead; a fence, now rusted, decried in absoluteness. it's authoritarianism seems vastly approriate.
    i think about wrapping my juvenile fingers on the metal wire; maybe to test it's true strength.
    or gauge my own, unable to quite tell the difference anymore. nature has reclaimed and reveneged here.
    there, under the boundary, is a murky puddle. in it's mired reflection, i can see myself diaphanously.
    i choose to best this sediment of man's imperialism. so, without empirical cause, i slip underneath.
    the current dangle above me, daring me to plant roots, to try to conquer it's methodical destruction.
    instead, i don't hesitate. and i'm gone before it can determine who i am. i swear a light bulb shatters.