Poetry · Writing

Raider

The thrill of the hunt bites

the heart and never lets go. Bleed

down the forest and disrupt

tranquility. Bundle of roses for the beauty

and a bow for the hunter. Two breathes

before onyx eyes and the 60’s forest dissolves

on your tongue and your shaky palms dive

into your own life festering on the rooted earth-

you’ll see the great adventure.

 

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