somewhere where the trees are crying.
children sleep in graves and the swamp is growing 4 meters a day.
hidden under moss and mist is a beast from the beginning of recorded time.
he shuffles between the weeping trees and writes a new epitaph for each rock he passes. feasting on moon shine to a cicada soundtrack he wonders, ‘how much longer will it be’.
the children come out of their graves to dance around him, singing voodoo songs in his ears.
how much longer and 12 meters more.
the swamp comes up to meet him and pushes him through tree tears and black magic melodies. floating him out to sea under the paper moon and firefly stars.
‘away we go’ hums the beast.
far away he goes.