the room feels dark,
the tree sways closer to the point
and when the sun finally sets
it gets cold.
the instances that lead
to this moment
recall themselves
in the struggle to forget fear,
but break down at the root
level and infect the tree.
later, when thought compels
a book to read itself,
it reads into itself
and walks the same road home.
the road doesn't change,
but alters itself in the slip
that leads into uncharted
combinations of the same word.
somewhere on the walk home
a drop of rain causes a flood
and the word disappears
amongst the puddles.
at home the buzz of lights
reiterate what happened
in the puddles
and the blue haze
drones long into the night.
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