Searching for Something

My depression lingers as I slice my way through green mush with slight anger in every swift swing.
Anger that keeps me going like coal in a train, like electricity in a socket, like water from a faucet, like my tears down my face.
      She left me.
Camping enthusiast, the tent up, trees veins make my back ache but the company of the moon and the sound is that of purity keep me warm.
Snake heads litter my path along with my depression as I press onward through the known and unknown
      She was cute.
My machete is sharp like a strain of a rainbow’s beautiful color and it cuts through the forest with the precision and patients of a psychiatrists glaring eyes.
When the moon climbs its way to the tip of the sky you can see the shadows of thirsty tics on the tent’s roof.
      Who is she with now?
Each day is the same, going everywhere, somewhere, nowhere- the three combined. Perhaps I am a fool.
I run from my life like the stars rush behind the clouds, I run from her, and the forest is the keeper of secrets that I unleash unto it.
      She never loved me.
Let the heavens above, the stars below, the bugs about, the trees towering like    giants, let them know my pain.
      Forgetting about her.