Forest of Orange

Open onto a forest of orange, bright as the sun and almost as cool.

I am the one lying there atop a particularly jagged rock.

Someone told me I couldn’t bare it so I had to prove them right.

I’m sure there is blood somewhere beneath my skin but I don’t feel it until it’s dripping out.

I can’t bare it, but they said I couldn’t so I will.

If I tried as hard at being good as I’ve tried to be as good I could get somewhere.

Hell, if I tried half as hard as I’ve faked I’d be in good shape.

The world doesn’t have to be so hot.

There are tempers up too high for their own good.

I think I can see the moon through the leaves and I think it would be nice there.

Slow, smooth, and cold enough for us to like one another.

I’ll dream of it here in the forest of orange atop this rock.

Because, damn you, I can do it.

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