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Shadow Blue (Nature Tilts)
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Dark Poetry I stand the center of billowing smoke.
Not to choke, but bask in disaster.
I curl my fingers—towards the sky—around the chaos.
The air is scorched, the forest black, and hollow are the tangled roots that crawl.
They claw through dirt and break the solid ground.
Like cable coils, limbs and vines—branches and twine—wind a deadly vice.
Passed through my flesh, like metal, glass, and ice, splintered foilage grasps and wraps around my body.
Brambles and thorns tear rips into my form—constricting and stabbing.
Barbs piercing my skin.
Wooden stake in my side.
Stones that fly by.
I am held fast to position as the predisposition of order is called to question.
Scrapes and mindless scratches, puncture wounds and bloody patches.
I revel in the matches to contentment.
Weep for the beauty of scorn and sorrow—scream for promise and hope of tomorrow.
Alive.
Alone, for chance to sway.
Survive and see another day
