What would it be like to have faith in yourself? Your intuition a resource. Your conviction unflawed. Inner guideposts illuminated. Instructions in legible font.

I just wanted to feel
and maybe get felt up 
I just wanted something new
a man that gives a fuck. 

You’re a master 
of meaning. Sharp 
as a knife 
your words carve
up our tender
union.

“Stop! What are you doing? Didn’t you see the sign!?”
I did not, could not.

I was walking. 

My words are not always words. Sometimes they are sounds. Hmm. Rrr. Rah! When I find myself feeling feelings so intensely this is how I communicate. Guttural. Staccato. Loud.

To talk about trees is to talk about life. As a child, trees watched over me as I slept, painted on my bedroom walls by my father. The trees had little eyes peeking out and elves nestled inside.