Indian Wood and the Fall

That fresh stench of washed wood, puts the cart of senses in motion
My skin is all heavy, my eyes burn bright with a watery sensation
Lunging out of the pale sky is the air, pushing me to gravity's direction
I take a slow fall, gliding through the thin air, no hands to hold me

That sound of jaw thudding to the floor,her wail fades away
The wind carries her vowels, she vows to devour their pathway
I float in layers of mud, scarlet liquid colors my lifeless hair
Face so soft like a whisper, drama ends, curtains closed in pair

That thumping agitation fueling the chest, her tears just don't rest
They carry me like a splinter in a river, flowing in an incomplete nest
I'm in the forbidden forest, eerie silence dosed with twangy howls
Fields of blue leaves and flowers, they grow on my seeping pool

That feeling of unabashed fright, mind's made up for the blackness
Running from the inevitable truth, yields no circle of clarity
It's time to tend to your sins, face the times of invoked travesty
I face my time with open arms, welcome old friend, drink my fear

That tall pine tree molding my vision, I feel utterly negligible
The sun refuses to come out of its infancy, mist paints her scribble
I can feel her plight of losing me but my fog paves a path of traps
Out of sight lay a plethora of mirage diamonds, a field with no gaps

That arrogance of underlying atmosphere, keeps the sanity caged
Inside a plastic box, it struggles like the cornered tiger, pounce or fail
Words not repeated, they barely come out, life sapping spirit
Eyes stuck out of focus, frozen and defeated, takes the bullet.