Monday, June 15, 2020

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
its not you they say, the world feels this way
of course theres 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 ( whats left of it) doesnt 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.

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