Untitled

you think you're headed
wild where trees bend in close
and the smells are of rose
so much to rewind
so much unallocated time
but freedom plays with your mind
the doors can close so quickly
you might lose your opportunity
that dead weight of trying too hard
monkey grabs your shoulder
in an instant the feeling is gone
and it's black, blind, subterranean,
extraterrestrial
outside all conceivable range of
fun and games until
the flat end of all things.