The living ain’t easy
It hasn’t taken away everything
there is still me inside.
Don’t forget I rise, fall, stumble, then I suppose because I’m here, I rise.
See even grey lizards can be
Newborn from cinders.
My number is definitely not over
Mother’s nature to beta block 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.
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 my lover’s latest sunshades.
Who’s to say we’ll never meet up with
a black dog again
– a self-made state of oppression.
The Living aint easy.
my relationships my temper and I write to make sense of my thoughts)