Saturday, October 9, 2010

For'est

The strange beautiful addictions eating off the bark

And the jerking branches stealing away the nature of the wind

All but sadness rejoice at the sight of their own absence

Timber has never been more valuable


The smell has fallen and it sways cold

Dancing around the roots fainting at every corner

Surely grass has grown here; warm it was

So there was a smell


The flowers do have forgotten their place

Painted over they await dinner in the form of doves

Sit and bark away the harmful ways

Sin down your desires; grow.

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