Untitled #77
I am what I am,
fool of nothing.
broken and bleeding.
damned birds of dispersion
have taken my eyes.
sullen and aching
for want to see the sun.
but it's alright, it's ok
let the birds and tears come
vultures of a lapis queens tower
to feed on my bones and lies,
feast down my swollen tongue.
it's already taken from me.
yet, I am not alright
I am not ok.
picked apart. run through by nights
given to silence,
and the ease of exile.
fled so soft and swiftly,
south across the sky.