Truth was me
when serotonin appeared
for a golden deal.

Self-effacing―
a fragile kiss, in
bouts of darkness.

Moonlight was sitting
on treetops, when I was
conversing with god.

There was slaughter in the
sea of demons. I do not survive.
I do not die.

In ripened pain,
I will go for half-moon
to solve the puzzle of bald hunger.

Redwood knows―
how the sap rises to
build the tight grains of faith.