I fade into the background
the plains of cows
the wolves by the shores
the purplish birds or skies
and the minor itch
in the lion's heart
The heat of a vapid field
but fulfilling for the wild
leave I could but I won't
for the leaves are still dancing
The trees are smilingly whirling
yet the monkeys still chase after me
as if I'm a primitive prey
an ancestral target
meant to be fossilized like those
pterodactyls
will this dream vanish
before they wear off their welcome
before I'm welcomed
by the chirps and the quacks
by the roars hisses buzzes
by so many yet so little
by the realest revelation
or will I reach resolution
by sitting and watching
those cows dying on the plains
or the plain background
or will lovely mother nature
naturalize the moon surface
of my heart?
I keep scratching
but the itch will not leave me
alone
Even as the meteors
start to rain like their words
and their faces
I still sit and watch
those monkeys chasing after me
but when they are scorched
and I am scorched
the itch still persists
like the realest dream
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