Wednesday, June 25, 2014

I Miss Us
































Hey you,

It's me, The Woods.  It's good to see your eyebrows and fingers.

In the time you've been away I've been busy: being home to the crooked bodies of dragonflies, as well as the business of growing and the heat of decomposition.

I may as well just come right out and say it--

I miss us.

You need me. Your eyes need me because your scope is shallow--I know it's not your fault. You just grow that way.

Look at Lake.

She is shimmering and beautiful, Yes? Think on her currents and teams of creatures, shafts of light, the strange murkiness of her floor and secret entrances to Underworld.

Everything is like this, Two Legs. Everything. 

Or consider rocks: generally  unnoticed as they are quiet and sneaky. Rocks are casually unremarkable but more ancient than most archeological treasures stashed under glass in museums.  They become planet terrain for lichens and crawly things and exist for millennia with little encouragement from anyone...

You know what I mean? 

It's when you free your brain meat from snap cating or spacebooking or scaring the shit out of yourself or whatever it is you think you love right now and listen to thousands of legs and wings populating my spaces,

I'll give you real medicine.

I am the Cure. 

While we're alone I'll  pet your hair and fill your skin with perfect smells, and I'll tell you that The Audience is a Lie.

All of the worrying you are doing about what "Everyone" says, who is watching and the mewing of obsessing over fuck-ups is an illusion...

The "audience" that pours out love for your accomplishments and chews on your shortcomings doesn't really exist.

As a sanctuary for Sasquatch, I am a reputable source for what does and does not exist. Luckily, beloved Human Face, a majority of your problems don't actually exist.

Don't abuse your imagination. It's too wonderful and scary.

If you want to stop feeding your imagined tragedies and future bouts of paranoia, I will help you starve them.

And once starved, you can shed them in a neat flaky snaky pile to be swept away.


Come with friends. Or meet me alone.

Just say you'll come.


I miss you.











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