here is where i will lay my words down to rest,
sunk deep within the heart of the woods.
they will stick like burrs to the coats of the hunters and
taint the mouths of the hunted with the taste of pennies.
when the clouds finally fall into heaps of weeping mothers,
the tears that strike my cheeks will hollow out tiny holes,
preserving ink pots for the day when i run out of things to say.
the clashing metal will resonate with the intensity of a thousand
electric volts and the ground will swallow me whole,
leaving me with nothing but emptiness in my thoughts.