After IT
A branch snaps
he laughs
she screams
and everything changes.
A house in the woods
that shouldn’t be there,
we are the only people on this island.
The first person to ever talk to this rock in the third person in
a blue fold up chair and
a brown bottle with
a soggy green sticker
in a holy burnt black mesh everything holder
full of plastic bags of natural powder
and cigarettes.
Rain falls down.
Hoods go up.
Tide comes in.
Boat floats away.
Sanity was never here.
We know exactly where we are,
We are lost
somewhere dead center in a
squishy mess between our ears.
This is nothing like everything was before.
this is your life chuck johnson 