Keep my Words Hidden and my Meanings Skewed.
They Mean More that Way.
I was so quick to abandon the 6 months, the worst part of the year
And focus solely on July and August. But if they were to end,
The next and last 4 of these long months may be a greater force to fear.
How much longer can I stand, how many more of these demons must I fend?
I am lost in the realms of reason,
Which make one prone to misunderstanding.
I wander this vast forest,
It was planted for what I thought to be best.
I planted so many seeds
I wanted to grow so many trees in hopes that one of them may be that which I so desperately need.
This void, of and within my mind
I've dwelt for two days, and by it I am bound to a life I resigned.
The air is composed of chilling mist,
It is felt ever so slightly, just at all of my tips.
A volume of poetic sounds revealed unto my eyes.
The sounds; indescribable.
The words; undefinable.
Yet, when infused and entwined they transcend communication.
Perception that skips the medium of any known creation.
—The tenth, and only story received to memory,
Was the tale of a rebellious and rightly placed love.
Though inherently jagged and mixed up,
The pieces, with the likeness of a child's picture-making/placement
Assembled passion unmet, an assumed case of abandonment.
As life and death exchanged blows of translation
I was caught in the midst something beautiful and possibly mistaken
Through these eyes, the heat of feeling and friction
All I know is everything I saw and heard and became happened without transition.
What was gained is beyond conceivable conclusion, placed on high debate.
The volume, I believe, came from the trees.
This conflict of life and death came from these trees.
This work of feeling conspired out of dreams.
And I can't tell if this— excuse me, that love is truly free.
That subconscious field of trees is only as real as what was revealed.
Just as visions of planetary collisions
Or visual analogies for life-changing decisions
I don't know if I'll ever see them again.