Days pass so fast beween those hills

the ones of suffering delt with skill

A heart not clensed from ill design

softer than silk, fresher than pines.

I write this thousenth letter with a mix

the juice of my oragans, stones and sticks.

So hang around if you feel alone,

and hear the letter leave the stone

and become bone from a bush.


Cast 'tween lands of firery ice

my body acts; I pay the price.

******* of a blueprint, my cardboard genes

still fail to smell a rotting dream.

The clean produce with an iron strength,

a deadly aurora of graveyard stench.

Between the rosebuds, black as soot

lies my ****-bush pushing roots.

Free to amend, from time itself;

Id then be able to cure my self.



Days do pass fast beween these hills

the ones of dementia, of feeling ill

A heart not yet ready to resign,

for there is hope in Valentine.

The first time I met you
You asked me this absurd question
"Excuse me, how does one get to Union Station?"
I heard you the first time because only one of my earbuds was working at the time, though I had both in to discourage exactly this sort of thing.
I was smiling while you asked again
"What, what's funny?"
I wasn't smiling because you were standing beside an entrance to the station, with a big sign over your head that said Union. I was smiling because it was the very first time I'd ever come across anything like it.
Your stature was that of a pine tree.
I grinned a hopefully handsome grin and motioned for you to turn around.
It was funny the way you laughed
You shook your shoulders and let your arms swing
Like a kid would, waiting for the big yellow bus.

Eyes to the skies and mantra repeating
this is the time that I see it all clear
hands on the grass heart steady beating
hardly believing the days led to here
the moon slowly croons head in her keeping
this is the air that I presently breathe
I realize now that I've always been sleeping
nature content in it's beauty to wreathe  
light of the night disturbing my slumber
in a way only magic of the eve really can
seeing the world in deep shades of umber
I live in the present in love with the land

The strong scent of the old gods still lingers here
they were many in the forests and the rivers clear
their spirits once held power we could not contain
now they're hardly more than shadows in mans domain
we conquered every corner in hopes we would thrive
though you see, without the wilds we can hardly survive