We imprison plants to small amounts of dirt within vases, and when the plant grows big and branch out beyond our satisfaction we cut and trim them down, maim and mutilate them, that is the standard.
We were once connected to nature but now we’ve become too civilized, and since we can not be in nature we try to bring nature to us, we try to tame nature.
We do everything to make our lives more attractive, the ego is the tree that is decorated in all our desires, we need to be stripped of our embellishments.
We domesticate animals so that we can live with them, because w’ve been domesticated ourselves. We’ve lost touch with the natural ways, this is why we feel sick, our lives are artificial.
And so we do this with dogs and animals, we breed them to perform for us, disable them to help us when we’re disabled, or because we find them cute and desire these physical treats, so they grow up with health issues.
We feel imprisoned ourselves, that is why we try to imprison everything else. Everything we do, we do it with motive, we want to profit from everything that we’re doing, and so we plant trees to be in their shadows.
We grew sick the  moment we gave power to our thoughts.
And now we’ve imprisoned ourselves to our beliefs and doctrines, to our knowledge and understanding, not knowing that what we’re trying to follow is just ourselves, and like a dog trying to bite its own tail, we go in circles.

Read closely
Yes, you
Don't focus on the words

I so badly want to say it again

Literally nothing would make me happier
Only you
Very seldom does a man truly need something outside of himself
Even if he hates to admit it

Yet, I find myself at one of those moments
One of the few moments in my life where I am left needing
Under one condition, just one way, one person, one phrase can fix this

And you've just read it to yourself

the salt in my skin grants me a bit of safety
from those who lap at the souls of the weak. the one or two who dared to taste me recoiled their tongues, mouths more sour for having wasted saliva on me.

i understand how to live as a sharp misfortune of the senses.

but i don’t understand you, with your heart an expanse of sweet sand, ready to give a spoonful for a bitter tea, or a hearty cup for a neighbor with sudden need.

don’t you see the crows circling, waiting to gorge on your ripe heart? they take pieces like hard candy from a bowl, hoping to find their whole from a beauty best not enjoyed in parts.

i don’t understand you, how you share so sweet a thing with drifters on a sugar fix, a knowing smile dancing on your face. crows dressed in a finch’s feathers chirp their pathetic thank you song and it is enough for you.

but if we tasted each other, your mouth would pucker and i’d be no better than the crow with your love in its beak.