You hide in the cover of the trees that have held you close all your life,
But they are diseased and dieing from the inside out,
And you know it as you rest your head on their roots,
Singing softly to the mushrooms growing about their base.

Standing you walk to the meadow,
Where soon roads will push your mind into the same direction as the rest.
But for the moment,
your mind travels freely about the field.

Out to the tracks and under the bridge,
Where it curls up in the rubble and cans and naps until night falls,
dreaming of acquaintance disappeared somewhere along the highways distorted memories now of old friends who left you damaged in the desert and drove off to a happier destination, delirious through the night you hallucinated the earth swallowing you and a light above you leading out of the terrestrial womb, beckoning you to new heights, as death enclosed around you the light became more intense and there was no more trouble in your mind only the immense peace of perfect stillness, Back to using humanities excess to build a fire, with flames of blue, green, purple and pink, you lean over the flames and breath in deep to taste the plastic in your lungs