Saturday, March 3

false reality made

deep in the forest
no bearings
and I have no breadcrumbs
no flares, no spray paint, or florescent tape...
nothing to declare
that I was here
or help me get back
do I want to go back?
and isn't "lost" a relative term?
the forest knows where it is.
where it stands.
but do I?
(no) my soul whispers
but I am finding out
adapting to falling darkness
and rising dawn
as my days are defined by the level or lack of light
and finding new meanings for words,
& hunger
Am I comfortable here?
With these blisters,
these twigs in my hair?
How is it that I've made a life in here?


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