I’m asleep in the forest
swallowed up silently by the night

I didn’t try to fight it
tired souls are whole again
covered in layers of tumulus

as for the trees
I love them as they
rustle rustle away in the breeze

there is this drunk, he’s blue and a little dark,
he asked: once upon a time, was this what I wanted?
when tiredness never touched me

I should rest on my bed
dig a hole in it
wait for the tree roots to fill it up
wait for the leaves to cast shadows over my eyes

am I growing a tree
in the middle of a forest
immersed in the embrace of my lover
and unhappiness shall never be say
displayed

I’m dangling
from the branches
until the poem turns up
to replace me