Why wait? For the beating drum, like a beating heart, a little faster now, my solidarity

and when the moon rises it’s time to think, it’s time to breathe, why wait? Like the drowning, a bleeding tree, find me.

Lost in a dark forest, hidden from the world, each root is a story, constantly be retold. Why wait?

The library distracts like art on the wall, please leave, why wait, lightning looks like veins.

Show me your heart, does it look like mine? Why wait? It’s finally your time.

Too many days are in a year

when the wind finally stops we wait, here.



On a cold hill with no air

I fall, my time is growing near.



The sun moves again, as it meets the night.

As I lay back falling, I no longer fright.



The stars are beautiful, but they run from height

My head reaches the ground at last, I take flight.

I woke before the day, when the moon still meant night

Where a cold shiver had met my back, why did I fright?

Was it that, there was something, I couldn't seem, to see, that left my guardian in still?

There was a sour flavour in the air, so stale, and yet so colourful

A drowning sense may devour, my nose wrenched of pure sulphur

Or was it my comatic imagination, my brain still so tired.

Then all of a sudden I heard a gasp, could it belong to a vengeful soul?

"Who have I wronged enough to hurt me this much, to leave my will an empty hole."

The trees had then rustled a mocking screech

I'd soon fall to the floor, begging I could scream, except my throat remained dry

I'd sit there tortured by the silence and lack thereof by what I beg to simply be an invading dream

But know instead that "No, this must just be my torment."

Why should I have to feel my heart? So loud, my beating guilt

Could it be because of the girl locked in my previously
built, chest

Under my bed

Where I wish I could still lay

Except however, despite my want, I must wait for my soon to come, internal dismay

For this night and therefore myself, are but a hurricane

This eerie vision of what is to be both the eye and the storm

Is leaving me externally worn.

I will retire to be grass on the lawn.
Wishing I could lay dead like the flower, all day long.

How free it would be,
to live like the leaves in the breeze
Dangling, helplessly, up on the trees
With all the fallen branches under me.

Could I become salt on skin?
For the dogs to lick off with their lips.

And my body may lay motionless on the ground,
With all the hungry vegetation growing around.

A wilted plant thirsting for the sun
And I am the one who lay their growth undone.