when i am barking at the moon, i truly want to be stroking the contours of your white skin.

it glows and i am reminded of night and forests abundant with orange mushrooms and sparkling flowers that drip dew like sweet syrup.

we all come to lick their thin petals, marveling at the strength of their papery flesh.

we look at each other in the dark and smile with white teeth illuminating our red beating insides.

our blood flows out of four toes and silently seeps back into the blanket of moist leaves.

all is plush beneath my soles and i jump higher with the padding.

its smells musty, but i have grown accustomed, and inhale with a certain greediness;

filling both my lungs as though i never had asthma, never was constricted and choked.

i have left my inhaler behind for the black night air that would be scary under most circumstances, but you are here, holding my hand and goosebumps are quickly sung lullabies and fed ginger cookies.

yes, it is very, very dark. and these trees behave like friends, actually bending to allow me a climb, cheering when i get closer to streaking stars.