The wild garlic along the River Wear
Lies silken in the eyelets of my shoes,
And the twilight
(sky sneaking into violet)
Suddenly awakes something violent in me.

The stars aren’t twinkling sweetly in the sky anymore, unfortunately,
They are the universe’s beady eyes staring back at me disappointingly.

I toss a stone into the river until there are none left
Then I grasp at the blades of grass until
I am green with envy at their docile existence.
Still but not stagnant.
Purposeful; sacrosanct.

I have cleared the woodland now.
The trees mocked me with the happy fizma of their leaves in the cool, agreeable breeze-
And the singing in their eaves
is snuffed out by my screams.