forest-land

There is such a strong memory in me

concrete and water

the buzzing of the trees, the steaming of the leaves

i can feel the rough-stone against my hands, the wet bricks lapped by endless sands

the tumbling shadows through the branches, currents caught by the wilder-man

i hear the scraping of the twigs, theĀ breaking rustle of their twins

no one can remove thisĀ energy

from me.

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