Smoke peering over the mountain peak,
the mornings here you can smell the trees,
screaming with heat of human passion wildfires,
its bright out, but the moon is hidden,
behind a grey veil that sees through the heavens,
its almost no different than city lights,
*
I found my favorite spot in the world,
shooting stars passby it all night,
and the water is deep,
everyone needs to get close to stay warm,
and the moon falls between two peaks,
and the two peaks are triangulated between two trees,
everyone in the town nearby says how much they hate it,
and how trapped they feel.
*
once i found my passion,
my drive,
but that seems to have faded now,
or maybe I've just become more focused on myself,
replaced the void that others filled,
by building bridges to new muscles and movements
in my body, and in my mind,
deadnames come back around when you least expect it,
and I still feel detached from this vessel,
I manifest and control,
sometimes you think you've got something figured out,
but every free moment you have, goes
to that inner corner
you keep dusting, but can never straighten out.
