Thirty Nine

by jameswakeling

Most of the time imagination is all you got.

You create your own world in your head and suddenly you’ve turned a barn into a robot killing machine or the trees into huge totem poles.  When you do shit like that a pile of leaves in a dark ally becomes a dismembered head or a furtive look from that girl in the park becomes the seeds of love.

It would be a terrible mistake going through life thinking that the world is the sum total of what you see.

It can be whatever you want.

And right now this wood is where the wild things live.