in the forest of the mind

by Rachel Lynch in


Breaking morning when I walk through the leaves. I woke to shake the dreams from my hair, in which the evil spirit asked me if I wanted to live or die, fight or flight. Every-time, I chose to walk through the door, wishing to live and escape, as the evil spirit whispered that heaven won't save me. There is no explanation for how I got here, for how I did slowly walk into the forest of my death. Now that I am here, it is as if I never existed anywhere else before. God Bless the daylight, I wish I could escape to the sea and free my soul. But here, I walk through the wilderness darker than a full week without the moon. Dirty feet have been making territory through my mind, and as I proceed through the same grasslands over and over, I lose sight and forget how water sounds as it passes over rocks. In search for something stable, I fall onto all fours, flesh and blood. There is no escaping, the forest is not real, this is my mind. I stand one last time in a response to light from above but I am not alone. For here in the caves and paths of my skull, the devil and I walk side by side.