This bleak half-ass night finds
my mind hiding from
the woodcutter.
Such is a nightmare in
a tiny corner where sits
volumes of words left over
from scrabble 3 nights ago.
Don’t ask which is more important
nightmare or words
go ask the woodcutter but don’t
whisper where I am at..
Some have drifted off, away
from my dreams
deciding differences exist
that make breathing harsh in woods
especially discovering
life has meaning once disrobed.
Yes, this makes no sense
but hiding from the woodcutter takes
logical decisions and luck
so read on reader, read on…
