Greyed and desaturated 

Rotted and contaminated 

Exaggerated and old

Barricaded and cold

Leaping branch to branch

Tugging and tugging to detach  

Running wild and sharply dressed

Returning feral in my sunday best

Acoustics and scraped knees

Bird song ringing through the trees

Leaf padded ground softens the blow

An aimless wander lit by firefly glow

Reflection of being hunted

Wandered too far and wondered

“Have I gone too far? Am I in too deep?

Well within their territoire; I’ve sown now I’ll  reap.”

Lack of sleep and shaky breaths

Hunted like sheep alas lest I stress;

Sharply dressed and running wild

Festering rest and feral child

Crucifixes and Cross hairs

Hunter’s ellipses and broken prayers

Deep in the woodland, bloody and kneeling

Blood seep in the damned, sinful and needing.

Domestic child going rabid.

Wild hare remaining placid.

Foaming at the mouth and kickin’

Succumbing to plague, giving quick in.

Growing sickly indoors

Remaining lively among the spores

In my Sunday best, I run wild

Sharply dressed is the feral child.