I went and took a nap out in the woods,
and let a blanket made of leaves drown me
with sinking stones of nothing, ravished sea
descending towards a stomach, betraying deeds.

I almost caught a gust of wind, maybe
spilling through cracked fingers, escaping- seen
near spying hairs, then simply sticking here.  
Palms open - arms outstretched.
I shook hands with nothing, its weight crushing.

Tripping over pinecones, understood
by suffocating air between my foot
and strewn upon the concrete: you
mistaking it for woods that we once knew.

I saw a bird skip up this dying tree
singing to the simple sullied sky,
catching wind under its broken wings.
Palms open - arms outstretched
carried by nothing.

When every single night, this clockwork chimes...
simply said I can’t meet my own eyes
for fear of crypts where restless crickets lie,
their ceaseless praying stretching on
till dawn.  

Air thick
suffocating between sheets and mattress,
stones still sinking, carelessly caught by
Palms open - arms outstretched
begging for nothing in particular.

So I took a nap out in the woods today,
my palms open - arms outstretched
suffocated by nothing, but the hugging air
like some stuffed animal I grew up with,
painted with prideful grime.