Odd Walking Thoughts

Laugh on brittle stick. Leaves puddle themselves with veins. We step on both of you without knowing which will snap first. A boy walks alone scrapping his knees on thought. He finds a mushroom with an additional head. ‘Can’t you think twice as much as the others?’ He stomped the mushroom, smearing life from the bottom of his boot to mud. ‘That wasn’t the way to know.’ A frog reported. ‘That wasn’t it at all.’ The boy looked toward the frog, ‘What do you mean?’ ‘A shameful look is what you’ll now wear, that mushroom just had a child. Alone. The mushroom grew another form to represent both sides, even though one had gone, and now you’ve not only removed that mold you’ve removed both. The child is more alone now than before it had been given the gift of life.’

-M. Taggart