theater of green

Dry leaves crackle

Beneath my sole

Blades of green flow

With the rhythm Of a million choregraphed dancers

Moving to the tune Of a birdsong

Over the low buzz —

A billion insects

They are all Putting on a show

Just for me

I cannot heal the scars that formed. I wake in fear of a life in ruin.

An unsalvageable soul is one in which I possess. No matter how much I run, its endurance is steadfast.

It will catch me. It will swallow me whole. It is unavoidable.

It is not an if, but a when.

I have no choice in the matter. Not that anyone cared what I had to offer. Shut out completely, I am isolated. I am alone.

There is no possibility to inhibit. I sit in evergreen stillness, awaiting my sentence. Nothing that I can ever do to change its course. It strikes me across the heart.

It is deserved, a necessary consequence.

After all, this is just a punishment to my being. My body is a temple, one that must be marred. I need to bring myself to justice.

What else is there to do?

Blade in hand, all I need is the will. A necessary impact bound, the force unstoppable. On a whim, I broke the surface, the depths now unleased.

From above, the spatter gave way. Remnants from my act of desperation flow. My fate sealed, and self-issued discipline underway. The dreadful shard slices the surface of my skin.

The pain is mine to bear. I wear it on my sleeve, the shining blemishes obvious. The strikes that I sever now gush in distress. I deserve this—I have fulfilled my punishment.

The battlefield of dread enters my sight—I am the sole casualty. The remains of my efforts endure as take in the bloody sight. The new scars shimmer, the ones I created on my own skin. What have I done to myself?

I release the blade I harnessed to carve my own sentence.