I trample through forests where

the trees become dead paper

painted with dry words and the

want of a flame burning bright

against the mundane morning

The weight of the world crushes my weary bones,

leaves my head pressed against memory,

binds my soul to the dark wood and the

promise of infinity engraved in the bark

like a heart placed there by childhood

I am nothing now but those trees

screaming

and screaming

My lungs on fire