I found a dead daisy yesterday

Its petals were browning and flat.

No longer pretty, you say?

Well I think it's beautiful like that...

I
write
about
that
which
I
do
not
understand,
in
hopes
that
maybe­
I'll
come
close
to
understanding.

Mirkwood

This is my forest.
My Middle-earth.
My fantasy woods filled with wicked things and winged creatures.
It's the dark forest of my imagination.
It's the little annex, attic of my mind.
Mirkwood is where I go when things are darkest and when I need to delve deeply
into my soul.
It's where I go when all things go awry, when they go so awfully awry.

Somebody bundled
it into a clock
and slung it up high on a wall,

with numbers
like bars between us,
where there had been nothing before;

before,
my days had come open,
open and endless like sky,

but boxed on the wall
there looked no room for all
of the rest of my lifetime and I.