Sestina In the Jungle

In the jungle, floating mist Sways in and out of unknown vines To trip and spit and rhyme among branches Whose long spindles CREEP! Like the green Of your eyes. Everything is real in the sway Of things. Everything lives in the moss On the trees. I would like to be moss Hanging out despondently amongst eerie mist Which seems to float and CREEP! And sway In the breeze like squirming leaves on vines Dangling in my face I just can’t comprehend the green Of the day is fading away, even in the branches Oh amongst branches I could only see the branches In the green of the moss I could only feel brown moss CREEPING but growing continually in a lively green Abode nestled with swarming seas of mist Rising, falling, laughing, crying, swaying as the vines And tired as my mind, lost in the sway Of gone days. Take it away, continue to sway In the jungle the mighty jungle full of branches And tears fall of trees dripping like flowing vines Like my hair. And your hair, like the moss Grows under superficial shadows made by mist And sweat. Sweat like the sadness of green Tears. Sadness of green, there’s too much green Rising around me, falling and swaying Like tulip petals in spring growing through misty Meadows. I can’t see through your branches Close your eyes, your ugly mossy Eyes allow the wealthy vines Of summer to counteract the wintry vines Of your day. I’m tired of you, green, When all you do is infect impure moss Stinging my smoking soul surrounding this forest in its sway But I don’t know how to turn around branches Of trees and I don’t want to see dark mist Anymore. I just want to climb the vine and sway Into green jungles enveloped in poisonous branches Covered in my tired mossy mountain mist.