(Reading the book-  ‘poems for a world gone to shit’
Here’s one I wrote of to add to poems for a world gone to shit. A post-suicide poem I wrote in 2018. For the record, my mother didn’t call me this. She called me worse. I’m seriously joking now.

My mother called me a narcissist
I delayed in ringing an exorcist.

Eve didn’t want to admit she was too affronted by the orange county housewife
I’ d laugh if it weren’t for the affray
the truth is I’m a direct line of my self sabotagist.

My mother called me a narcissist cos I  tried to kill myself
She didn’t find it funny when I told her to go along with it.

She didn’t get it.

I take up my place as a dyed goat dressed in sheep wool.
I wonder if I can make it.
I forget
language-

so I bleat in Beast instead of weeping my tears of rage & regret.