Dreary Groves

Perchance it was fortune
That pixelated forms
Of poorly rasterised
Zoomed up
Blurry images
Were deleted.

Relatable occurrences
Recurring instances
Transmogrified
In abrupt sequences.

Maple leaves falling
In autumn
Decaying
In dreary groves.

Synonymous
To the feeling I am left
To the following season;
A cold and desolate region,
In flashes of anger
Of mostly confusion.

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Am I Awake

A mess of words stuck to each other
Barely making any sense.
Was I that much of a mess back then.

Was I delirious
Am I awake now?

Then why do I
Still feel disoriented.
I feel my way through
A lightless woodland,
The rough bark
On my finger tips,
The crunching of crud
Underneath my feet.
My sensory receptors
Respond to stimuli,
But these things,
They don’t exist.
I try to find an exit
But can’t seem to find it.
From every direction
Trees of this Garden
Obstruct my way.
I tilt my head
Towards the heavens
Searching for the moon
But the specked sky is hidden
By shadeless canopy greens.

A lightning bolt strikes;
I then realise
I am naked.