Worry about me later,
for barbarians are coming over the hills,
carrying long pikes and angry words,
searching for reasoning they do not possess.
My sleepless nights are a gene inside me,
melatonin leached from my skin,
my fascination with the moon, my dark monarch
taking flight to greet the lamps lighted.
Mist enwrapped trees extinguish the low orange glow of the Sun
Taillights warm the twilight ahead
Headlights shine on traffic cones and road workers jackets
Jagged shadows in a field reveal a ruined brick barn
i thought that i could find myself in slivers
of emerald and oak, pathways of leaves
and so i ventured into the woods of your
familiar dust-warmed fairytales
an avid quester.
