What scares me through this dark forest?

It is not the dark,
Nor the wet socks,
Nor the treacherous rocks in the way
Nor the rustling of grass unpaved
Nor the occasional shriek of an owl
Nor the cold, nor the starvation
Nor the bats and insects and crawling creatures
Nor the unknown beyond horrid imagination
Nor the screams of sorrow's victims
Nor the silence, or the sheer loneliness

The only fear is existing
Painfully drifting
Having nowhere to go
No journey to bleed for,
Having to watch the forest burn
As hollers of delight emerge from monstrous look-alikes,
Siblings turned beasts of false pretenses and heavy machinery

And the more it burns, the more colorful it gets,
The more join in, the louder it grows, they're having a blast!
Till the smoke touches every molecule in the air,
Till we all suffocate in a carbon monoxide high
Forever frozen in a grin of painful ecstasy,
And the forest turns to ashes, awaiting a kinder generation,
A kinder species, perhaps.

The river runs rapid,
radiant, through rock
made of ashes
flung from fierce burning
fires that reached beyond our heavens,
sipped the sanguine wines of space
and grew full and fat and hot
while it fell, like rain,
gripped by gravity,
among countless others that stood
upon one another to sip, just a bit,
more wine. Ages, aeons, they reach
but never drink again
because the river runs through them.

The plateaux and caverns which map
my cognitive landscape correspond
by virtue of something; something
determines the salience of beliefs
and their ability to traverse this

Sometimes she blows
Cigarette smoke
In your face and
You call that love
Not because it is
But because
You want it to be

You're so ******* lonely
So ******* unable
To handle the
Ocean roar in your
Ears when you're alone

You tell yourself
That the ash in
Your lungs is
As good as
A kiss good night.

Fire and mortar
Dust to dust
The sky stained red
From ashes and rust
The flames reach new heights.
They lick the sky,
Burning new trenches.
I wish I could say why.

My body smells of ash
Because I one had this fire
That consumed me
And left nothing else
But ash

He’s ash now.
He played with ash back then.
He’s dirt.
He was dirt back then.
He snatched their slums
and their palaces
But now he can’t live in either.
He pumped out dirt
into the river back then.
He’s going back
to the river now.