oikofugic

A forest is one for wanderers,

under the trees, filled with satisfaction

and the sun is hard to find at dusk. Beneath the greenery, 

eyes are locked but lost in the shadows, dust is falling in the only light. Two hands, 

they strangle each other.

We are alone together.

And many friends hate us for what we do.

No one cares for what we do.

The trees are dark, and no one can see.