I became aware of my legs
At an insomniac’s pace.
Of how far they stretch and where they strain
My right ankle snaps, like marbles on string.

Walking faster through slush branches,
I slip between pine trees, get up and run.

Towers of ****** forms bulge from rot,
Soaked sludge mounds, like snot.
Jutting out from under are hard slippery shapes.

Cold ****** figures lurch similarly in the dark.

I want breath to roll over me.
Warmly with dirt that stings.

Fingers pull to reach a pebble studded scalp.
Scrape to move, hope for it’s help to grip a rigid mouth.

Getting on top, I roll onto relief.
Where the wind skims like nails of a touch.
Exhaling into sheets of fog, I let lids fall and drift into myself.