I often find myself heavily intoxicated by
Landscapes and oceans and nature and trees.
My attraction to the human race is dwarfed
By my longing to eat berries plucked from bushes
By my own to hands and to hoard nuts
For the winters spent alone in the dark.
I would much rather be alone and to conform
To no one’s standards but my own and to
Feel no obligation to any morals that were
Pushed upon me by a society in which I
Never did believe. I want to seek the void
In the crevasses or the sensation of solitude,
To feel the microcosm develop within my soul
For the world around me that is my own construct.
Surely to escape, simply to sneak into the darkness,
Into the pitch-black of the unknown all on
Ones lonesome is the purest form of freedom.