g r een . h o u s e

This hammock is made up of nets
the spider spins- the humans web

we fell in traps,the size of ships
This is a habit,This is a whereabout,there is nothing more
there is no turning back
this is it.

I found you in a Green House
with demon shaped figs

the plants they act like monsters
The flowers act like kids

mulch is growing up
faster than you can say

you touched me on the-
cheekbone      then my lashes
there,you said it with your greyline eyes
it was not your first pick.

There is freezing rain
falling all over your- shadow
your leather boots are soaked 
discolored and you are not having

I am strapping myself
to the end of a train

shutting my eyelids
nature based tears 
 begging to emerge
this is not emotion
 this is just scientific 

holding my breath
ah,what a breeze this is!
the speed of a wheel
the thrill of traveling,swiftly,onward.

Oh,what an eve this is!
seducing me into such a fictional death.

One day you will answer your telephone and say:
I know this for a fact.
I know this for sure.
I know.
I know .
I know.