French inhales, and long
walks through the woods, tripping
on roots and wet rocks
in new shoes, and
I need to start hating you.

I need to refract this thought.
Shine it through every drop of dew
born on this stranger's lawn
that I find myself sneaking across,
in insuperable darkness.

The smell of pond water,
dog shit, burnt skin. Memories
of massacres, and persistent
telephone buzzing.

Flickering feelings - ephemeral
and senseless, and stupid.

I need to start purging these.