Hiding from the woodcutter

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…

burn baby burn

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