No patron saint
It hasn’t taken away everything
there is still me inside.
Don’t forget I rise, fall stumble, then I suppose cos I’m here, I rise.
See even grey lizards can be
Newborn from cinders.
Her number is definitely not over
mother’s nature to beta blocks a seizure on Kronos’s clock.
merely an earthling
In my mortal dregs tried
to take my heartbeat, crush it in my hands
so many times,
yet here I still am.
Instead, I Pulverised the very heart of my soul.
This beaten path
Led to a southern state in need of heart donors
Many lived as secluded slaves
pieces pulled apart.
I may be flawed but you’re no patron saint
for you have a blood hue lusting for the Big Easy.
See there it is!
blemished if only so faint.
self-hatred became queasy & took it out on my star crossed lover.
Call it, resting bitch face syndrome.
My love can be seen -it hovers.
Moments of Rapture are fleeting
Take time to bask in your lover’s latest sunshades.
Who’s to say we’ll never meet up with
a black dog?
– a self-made state of oppression.