ROUGH DRAFT
The dragon might eat my soul
If I leave my tent
I hear his breath
Through the polyester vents
His body flows around me
But he dare not enter
As if he had fetters
Scared of polyester?
I’ve been here as long as I can remember
Eating the lichen and maggots
There’s a pile of my shit
In the corner
At least there are good reads
I’ve even started some philosophy
To shed light on this mystery
About the polyester
I hear his gnashing teeth
My soul he would eat
He would savor me, oh yes
If he could get me out of this tent.
