howl at the moon, scream at the stars

November is going fast
as did the months before it
I was going fast
howling at the moon
screaming at the stars

i was on the cold pavement
broken bones?
blood soaking through my courdoroy?
no, only a fear of the unknown

i found that my bicycle fit the parking post
perfectly, much like a jigsaw puzzle

the all-to-familiar feeling
of waiting for my loved ones
to rescue the "weathered traveler"

curled up in the forest
resting my head on my pack
the moon lit the night
the stars looked on me
i couldn't break the quiet

the most beautiful day, the sun set, i dreamt of murder

I was a carpenter
I was a gardener
I was a seamstress
I was a facilitator
I was a musician
I was a collectivist

we rode around our city
discovering corners I had never seen
the sun was setting
the rails caught my eye
i decided that I would be walking them
soon enough

that night
after dinner and conversation
the night was full with our voices shouting
as we played our instruments
golden light flooded the rooms

the garden was safe
my clothes were mended

as i finally fell asleep
I had the darkest dreams
of out of body experiences
watching shadows take control
of my actions
I was terrified.
I awoke to see my friend asleep
for the first time in weeks.