Existence stretched through a detour,
two spots; unknown in direction.
Turning left when it was right before,
keep all guessing, slide past detection.

I’m not a one stop shop,
once I housed hand crafted originality.
With the increase in demand I let my guard drop,
and now both my shelves and insides are empty.
I believed in a watcher behind me,
I held onto tight to an invisible thread.
Everyone is just silently constantly reminding me,
I’m isolated and alone even in my head.

I hear the loud pop of plastic against plastic,
feeling both relief and shame simultaneously.
Side slipping and back breaking; I thought myself a gymnastic,
though incredulous was the thought of even competing.

But I was sleeping in a Chinese finger trap,
so assured that I would choose to make it a womb.
You couldn’t hear a pin drop but with the concept of a single tap,
ears would shake and ring as if it were a sonic boom.
I’ve got nothing but dirt and dust on my shoulders
I pass it off as glitter and simple magic.
I show no signs of tiring from passing back all the boulders
if I didn’t let them slide it would almost be tragic.

Pardon my complacent self involuntary involvement,
and excuse me while I perform dramatic ironies.
Preparing the conscious for the next inevitable instalment
of prepared monologues of justifications and fallacies.

And I can’t but think in this instance,
I remember the episode of The Simpsons
where Homer is outcasted for screaming “aliens”
and he drinks himself out of existence.
“Red M&M, blue M&M,
they’re all the same colour in the end.”

the firmament calls forth delicate bubbles from deep beneath the soil
under my feet, pine tree roots
further below, the fountain gone stagnant

glimmering spheres moving through air compliment the evergreen needles
unavoidable bursts of rot, exuded from that which grows beside the fountain
in a swampy green place, mother of the pines

eternal life giver, balancing this forest upon it’s ancient branches
with every step, a wobble
with every misstep, another burst

to which i inhale my worst of days, and live from those days onward

if you were a constellation
I would lay with my back pressed against the ice-cold grass to witness your miracle
she sees a shooting star, she wishes for love
I stand by the ghost-white evergreens
suddenly I don’t feel so big
the snow-coated mountain reigned over the land
but I, I can keep my own
I’ll follow you forever, don’t you worry
I’ll even follow you until the blisters on my tongue stop me from praying
through the monochromatic bliss of winter
the snow now silences the warm pulse of my heart beat
an arctic December, i’d expect nothing less
the ethereal skies scream of the unknown and the clouds yearn for me

Evergreen, or nearly so
The last rays of light broke
Through little branches and
Whether we admit it or not
We put forth great effort
Just to conceal what's inside
Our own minds

atop the earth in infinite space,
there exists a minuscule speck of dust
void of light, engulfed by shadows
hovering above its once vibrant greens and blues;
the harbinger of winter’s wrath, waiting to wreak havoc,
as we brace for the inevitable: the severing of our intertwined friendship.

wind and salt, winter injuries
browned your needles ruthless, a worrisome sight.
i prayed that you won’t be everbrown,
incapable of rebirth.
i prayed that you’ll still flaunt your emerald needles
despite the wounds winter inflicted upon you
under my command.
forgive me.

sunlight penetrates a bleak world barren—
a blissful augury of spring.
alas, we’re greeted with repetitious sights;
short plant stems forcing their way
through the infinitesimal cracks of fertility
amidst the sterile soil.
light deprived creatures basking in the warmth of aureate rays.
only to wither again, only to hibernate again.
though we are different, shedding our dead needles, only to reveal the colour of life: green.

we are shackled by roots, bound to samsara
revived only to die again.
though we’re mutinous beings, stubbornly fighting to retain our foliage
unafraid to defy nature’s laws, outliving death
albeit being a piece of nature itself, existing in this realm.
oh! another xylem ring, another year.
united, we shall prevail forevermore
as we are evergreens, defying all odds.

-amelie

twisting groves of evergreen feel so serene...
comforting to my sore hands in the stream...
violets leap and leopards grow...
springing from the ground to and fro.
the pale blue sky recovers from a dawn-absent night,
as i keel over in sudden fright.

where are you taking me?
the scenery twists
green turning to red and red turning to black,
till it all fades to nothing, and never comes back.

oh, it seems i have awoken.
the morning lilacs twist and turn
inside the little ceramic urn.
the room is barren but for two paintings
one with stripes and one that’s caving
where have you taken me?
i approach one in curiosity
wonder and excitement filling me hurriedly.
the lilacs are at my feet now
lulling me in and telling me to sleep now
      sleep, sleep, they call out in longing.
i must listen to their calling.
i wander through the spiraling air
over to their dusty lair.
and then death himself rises me up,
his presence and hurried silence stifling me far enough
i was taken into a large, red portal,

and then i saw the evergreen again.
and then everything faded to black.






               and then i died.