The hot August sun beat down, battering the stinging burn on my back. I dug my fingers back into the cool ground, my only suffrage the peony roots as I bound them with the earth. How noble the life of the plants; to sit and look pretty for the benefit of man. I solidify the soil, these flowers here to germinate for summers to come. Sorrowfully without purpose. Just looking pretty. Sway with the breeze, pluck them away to impress the apples of our eyes. Looking at cloudy horizons, I stand. Spun forth towards solemn great oaks. There shadows’ minuet dance as the sun wisp’s across the sky. Shadows that swallow my silhouette with their dull teeth. Cool mist hollows my eyes as I follow a stray cat no it follows me. Myself; an entity of shadow. Coupled with the man I follow the scurrying rodents on their muddied grass carpet. Spider webs tickle my shoulder blades, they’re wiry like chain-link fences. The darkness gives me omniscience. The outside world still lingers at the edge of my presence. I see all my life. The dilapidated shed housing distorted nails and a rusty axe. I turn ‘round with relish in abandonment. There is no salt water to drown my vision. No book encapsulating an epic journey. Just a distance of shrubbery and a walk beside my shadow. A break in the web of branches reveals the salmon-pink sky. The stray cat eats the salmon, stripping it to bluish-black with glowering jewels. My calves ache with heady agony. I collapse unto a shrub. The waking reverie and the twigs lacerating my back. My head falls back and the waxen insects crawl through my nasal cavity. The body of the wild blackened veins. Leaves have veins. The mice seeking refuge n their burrows. I wait for the sky to blush with cotton candy clouds. For now I paralyse myself. The wicked transient reverie. And I was happy, happy as the flickering candles I extinguished on the buttercream chocolate cakes that meant I was still living. As when such a lovely orange and black creature perched itself eloquently on my fingertip; ‘tis a beautiful day. Pray in the sunlight as opposed to the pulpit. The tree trunks make faces at me. I am lost in this labyrinth. I swallow the doves being watched by vulture’s eyes. I take their fate into my own hands. Archaic hearts of another time. Their solemn livers filter the deathly delights. Your dysfunctional cerebrum, brimming with fury. Empty, like the bottles of booze washing down daily bread. Gluttony. Keep your spouse and batter your children. Except your bastard son. He’s put away his toys. His sad song has been sung. But he keeps singing… stepping through lithe branches with the rhythm in his fingers. No more cuts, the wounds; they heal swimmingly. Slow paces as the concupiscence stirs fog in the morning. The blood rises as the sun. The loss I have is only of the mind. I could watch you move for eternity, so graceful. It hurts; step closer. Just a few steps and we’re in each other’s arms. But I won’t move. The mimicking folly of the broken mirror. I am shunned by the wicked reflection of desire. I may as well be naked. An occasional waft of unclean air; I can taste the maggots infesting my mouth. Tour diseased tongue is but a fantasy. A delusion. A mirage of a lake appears. The hot sun pressures my sanity. I jump in. The lake is shallow as a puddle. A reflection and a shadow. All triangles have three sides. We always find the longest one. My knees are full of mud. I I were a child still, it would be natural. Adults must defy nature. Someday this forest will be gone. No shadows to speak of. Oak, pine and maple stripped away. That rusty axe will hack away the hearts and letters. All the tastes of air, the breaths of life. The tiny creatures, too insignificant. The black curls in my hands, I will never be so close. Hazel eyes fixated on glory. Sad, isn’t it? The lights whiten the horizon. Funny isn’t it? The dead shine bright because their dull eyes are finally closed. Their crimson lips won’t make another sound. Je suis fini. Finally. June tenth.