Midnight Bug Bites

We gather words and
Stories like squirrels
Gather nuts; for the
First half of our lives
Is spent fighting to find
Reality,
While the other half
Is spent
Escaping it.
In these sheets crawl the
Bugs of better times,
Stinging and biting me until
I whisk them away with
The opening of my eyes.
And on this book sits
The imprint of a tree:
Written on for ages and
Always forgotten.

But the squirrels who
Live there never forget
Where to go
When they are
Alone.