Forest | 林

Time has come to fucking 2026. Snow— snow thick as phlegm submerges me, violates me.

Twenty years ago, here too, in this tangle of cobwebs, I imagined myself becoming a skeleton— blood and flesh and soul, the barrenness inside the marrow, all handed over to you. I wanted only the skeleton.

The skeleton grows into a tree. The soul takes refuge in time. A forest of one lone tree.

O hollow, empty ribs, grow me a liver— scarlet, yet warm me.