Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

withering trees scream my name.

voices laugh at me with their warm, fresh mouths.

i’m shaking my hands because i have to.

shaking my hands because i need to.

shaking my hands because they tell me to.

this is just a hallucination.

not real, not here, not happening.


the yellow flowers tucked behind my ear

whisper in a soft voice that i need to be careful.

i’m being watchful because i have to.

being vigilant because i need to.

being careful because they tell me too.


i don’t know if this is a hallucination.

real? here? happening?


my guard is never let down.

there is a far away hill

where rabbits and deer eat berries off bushes.

there is a place where all is real.

and all is there.

all is existing and being and breathing.

limitlessly, radiantly, undoubtedly.