Day: Sep 2, 2020

The forest leans on my sprained ankles and rusty knuckles.

The trees breathe my scared heartbeats. I’m another medal

In their belt buckle.

Dark branches hit my scalp and I’m struggling to see,

Each leaf is a mystery man waiting for my red, restless heart

To burst and bleed.

Fog is covering my shoulders like a breath-taking blanket.

Each step on the moss is a step closer to the ceremony

Of my funeral banquet.

There are men screaming from the roots of these trees, they chuckle.

I turn around in time to see the forest forming a circle around me.

They bow as I ruckle.