The Forest

The Forest

I never told you what it means to be 

a child of this concrete bedlam 

waking up one day to the pitter patter of a rain

socks wet still , Adagio on the radio

and Suma on the telephone anxious with the

olfactory surety of the rain smelling like chemicals 

half asleep, half awake I shiver without a fever

dreaming of a rage buried in the body

everything is a hollow performance 

from sex to sympathy

it’s not you they say, the world feels this way

of course there’s a loud throbbing in the head

saying Walden, Walden , take me to Walden

as the creepers and climbers 

reclaim the sky scrapers

high graphics, 1080p 

the forest here ( what’s left of it) doesn’t weep or whine

it sings off tune- like a bitter soprano 
stunted, overwhelmed, shades of a boiling spectrum

this world will surely end in fire

and they are playing Nocturnes, in the morning ?
stupid I thought, but sunlight never reaches the abyss.