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Can’t Promise her a title

Lazily, a  tigeress snores into her paws . If only retiring was as simple to rule her inner world.

Curled up in warmth after a stroll  into the big wide world,then  settle for a quinquennium pause.

Her heart beats.

Nationalists- not even  patriots  are exempt.

All want to play in their own chord, tighten the strings ,she keeps  it together, to satisfy their crucified minds.

In a state of constant – motionless movement.

If not an act of physicality -drill cumbersomely inside her cranium and you will see chemicals and synapses – making up fresh bricks and mortar, to fit in with the latest homemade yeast infused hootchie.

Glance away now, for fear of pitying an evocative attempt to get a rise from it.

Secret plots to charge this queen with treason.

Where will she live?

Her throne burnt to the ground to make way for a newly elected dopamine and serotonin scrupulous , democratic union.

Flags of self-belief – burned infringed – protecting her staked land  was all this monarch tried to take into hand.

Defamation – character assassination.

Cloaked – in darkness- rat scuttles past – no pause – it already knows this violated prisoner is barren.

Scars and welts – a confession is sought after by the cardinal living east of the castle manor.

Employed only to instill courage when the  most powerful empire seized a chance to escape into heritic souls howling in the wind.

Faith and Hope – not draft an erratic, purple, incensed  dogmatic pope .

Dire retribution -execute the one who claims  this state is her very birthright.

Clubbed to her knees –  she will crawl  not humbly- you shall hear her plea.

She  wants to make them a better nation.

It’s her biggest exclamation.

Out plotted by her very own court –  bribed by cheap whores-given away by the roughness of their hands, dressed up as expert courtesans,  who clearly have seen at least one day of sun.

Intoxicated by some amorphous potion.

Formalyhde doused  in cleaveaged lace dresses – it was  not her initial notion.

A scented air  of burning flesh

A greek tragedy indeed.

Scorned by her very  owns subjects . She may be longitiduely  dimintitive  but she refuses to be bullied into showing them that wanted emotion.

Defeatist attitude does not a fit queen make.

Words in  a precise order do not  prize a piece of   art,

so clearly a fake.

Forgiveness is her only weapon. She won’t see her country  be overrun by zealous creachers.

It would appear her subjects wish to prove that she is illiterate.

Tortured, holding her breath under water to procure a confession – let her reiterate.

The crown is made to fit one head – It is symbolic and vaporizes with her when she  exhales all energy and   is varnished as  dead.

Look how you’ve turned on one another – in the pursuit of power. It is  a notorious illusion.

To master control over all subjects requires more than an iron-clad fist and an outraged dalliance to declare outright confusion.

Compassion,

nurture,

recognition and honor are what she   offers,

accept these as the wealthiest of gifts.

Only a fool would scream,

‘Off with her head‘ -a face full of sour lemons and a lust to frazzle the last tether.

The Noblest  of causes – so much bloodshed – look into her bloody, vein threaded eyes.

She hasn’t slept for weeks in her fight, to appease  all those in famine, hungry and underfed.

She  needs no  steering Regent to aid her  in her duty.

All she demands is loyalty and valor.

With you all at her side ready to conquer life’s copious battles,

we shall not go down .

your  hearts will not know the true grief  inflicted made up of another community of arrows.

we shall not waiver.

Trust in your queen to walk as a stout  cripple ,duty bound to protect and hold it all together.

My confessions of being a fraud

The Rage

Rage incensed unfurled by the scent of the Unsaged.

The Wisest fool, I know.

Marked with your own hands

let your vapid swimming champion attempt to have a  go

Let you paw my naked flesh

blue rinse.

Touch me up and make me think I wanted you for sex.

I don’t give a fuck!

Get out my of my head, black-mouthed dog.

I got my hands sullen – fresh paint can’t hide your taint revolving around my mind.

I write with these hands because I don’t know what else to do if I sit with my thoughts

what else will I find?

Paranoid thoughts, I was doing just fine.

Soul crooners lull me into an artificial lullaby.

Black soul

desperate to pull the remainder of my smile -on the down line.

Graphic infatuation, little girls grow up. I put my hands in the air.

My new escapism became you

There is no edge about you

indeed your toxicity is your strongest flair.

On the border screaming – furry fury cloaks me.

You took advantage, you sick fucking spatial wasted amoebic basket case.

Slap you,  disgrace you.

Shame you.

You took advantage and to hell with you.

I suffer still because I let you have me.

No regrets?  fuck that – knowing you live is the cord around my neck.

Choke me, pollute the air -in my world. it’s not fair.

No, life ain’t fair.

Break. it. down.

Trace my heart – find a pulse – wearing my heart for all to show -has led to this current plumous demise.

Despise – I’m spitting mad.

You think you got me had?

Leave my mind – cybersex or sext with the one with the most milkshakes accumulating in her breasts.

I back away -Every.Single. Day.

My greatest doubt is you.

My biggest mistake was believing you -believing in you.

I’m bored. I’m tired. I feel like you’ve drawn out the last pint of blood from my veins.

Silence  your kind.

Judge not those who seem a reflection of myself.

Your kind is everything that drags me into the knockers pit – I know about that mine.

I know the rules now.

Not worth it. Wasted.

Not worth recycling.

If I see you again count on a different primitive play out.

You ain’t no clever clogs  – your seduction techniques consist of stirring drunken lust.

You can’t even get your playmate up – he so broke – he to lame to even cough up and say I’m bust

See my belly button?  I ain’t your mommy – there ain’t no umbilical cord,

Snap out of this maced crowdy place.

Am I losing it because of a hillbilly with a familiar face?

Contravene – isophane

Get out of my mind.

Tickets for you – you need to pay hundreds in fines.

Here’s the unpolitical correct version – may your mind be haunted and possessed by the very wrong deeds you have done with your own venomous spew.

I hate you. I hate me. I hate that I let you get to me.

Immigrant? I’d rather be that than insignificant. who are you?

Who are you?

No metamorphosis fly buttering around.

Comparisons to what I have tossed away to one side.

If I end up in a grave with a tag on my toe.

Please, family, don’t own me. Call me Jane doe.

Such is the embarrassment for the one I almost gave up breathing – you so shallow – you so low,

then I realize you want to have that effect – crazy bastard. Your mind ain’t correct.

How can  I erase your dirty fingernails and unwashed face from my skin?

How could I let you touch me – lusted after you?    You dear, are not my sin.

Lost and a wandering always flock to the same ravine.

I’m not gonna drown in here -with you the last thought on  my mind

We all a bit crazy – you crazier than your previous generation of malignant space heads.

Fuck you. Fuck this – potions brewing. I’m on my way to Haiti to instil a dose of voodoo – you hoodoo – foo do – mush brain processed tin canned – factory-made – reset the defaults – you haven’t got a clue.

You think you some Who?

Have I told you lately I have some news for you?