Tree

There is a demon inside me that sits behind a tree—sits behind humiliations and stares at me. I stand in animated anticipation amongst boring fuck heads, cunts, stool pigeons and leaches—I stand in cattle piss around large pieces of asphalt, galvanized rink-shank nails in the yellow mud, green shit and red blood.

One night I was gazing at the stars through moonlight—suddenly I became lucid with thoughts of another reality. I couldn’t function in society very much and I didn’t try. I was mesmerized—and this wasn’t drama.

Then one day I was gazing at the sun through the blue skies, my mind (((rang))) with energy and I connected with the trees and weeds and beasts—we told each other to all be free, we preached, we fought and bleed and all walked away in the end.

Upon a sunset and a belt of clouds was a purple hue—the moon was arriving soon. All along the prairie grass, grazing cattle and their manure. There was a stillness that was aliveness and the end meant new beginnings and the indigo and lavender tinted everything else.

I saw hundreds and millions of angles watching over me in stars that night, twinkling like divine smiles—but I know that demon behind the tree is inside me—sitting, starring at me both day and night.