I run through these dreams with my teeth gritted
In attempts to escape this abandoned city.
Every ghost that I see makes me feel guilty
Of the things that I've thought and the poems I've written.
No one asks me permission to enter my head:
I'm lost in this crowd - I've burnt the last map.
All the branches are gone - there's nothing to grab
And I'm falling again down this continuous dread.
I'm here. I'm back, beneath the trees' crowns,
Embraced by the roots and the storm's breathing sound,
The sky is an ocean. The moon might have drowned.
I'm closing my eyes as the wave hits the ground.
The raven is busy exploring my ribcage,
Pecking the flesh to ease the soreness.
Well, I guess I'm close to the next stage
Of a journey through my unsettling forest.