Never green, lonely swamp

My feet they start growing tiny roots
I rub them against rocks they bleed
with no rocks around I would just run
run until I fall into a featus pose and
pretend nothing happened
pretend that besides all the
destruction and all the scars
that nothing really mattered

Is it natural to breathe in that constant
wind that fiendish whisper: let me take
you -nowhere- to your final
destination. To your lonely
swamp, where you finally will
become that perfectly lonely
tree which
was never green, always
dry
sorrowly, somewhat naturally
dry.

Nowhere. A true destiny
I break the last spell
I crush the last fear
I whisper nowhere is...
I say it outloud: nowhere.
Where I alone belong.