i say goodbye and yet i find myself thinking about you again
i think about you in the weeping willow
singing a song of emotions that i do not know
i wonder if given the opportunity
you would listen to me sing in my groaning oak tree
about emotions that you do not know
the more of me i see, the less of me i want to be. i feel empty and dreaded and dead inside;
i’m a horn atop a pig’s head;
i still remember dogwood, sitting under my porch;
my name? what is my name?
death and malice behold thee, what pains of being are inflicted upon thee, those creatures in the water and the hills continue to watch thee, the wind in thine ears whistle around thee, seven eyes on a goat’s head stare towards thee, the
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