fog, all around, murk and then
beautiful trees, fruit awaiting to be bit into,
everyday the same ***** waters but delicious offerings.

my body healthy but hidden away under clothes too big and chains and accessories and other pretty things,
my heart open but shying away from prying hands who want to help and pulling back when love gets tougher,
my mind free but bound to a chair and a desk and no will to make anything come alive for long,
my hands ready but only when it comes to fleeing their own work.

happiness on some fruity corners and then the rest of the room has to be ignored, it has to
or else how am i going to move on.