Shadows are coming
rumbling under clouds
Like insidious blitz artillery
Aimed
at my invidious existence
When the grief flows thick
and razor under my skin
And I brooding
Bleed Bloody and thunder thoughts
Brewing foul teas and potions.
Looking at others happiness
And deeply grieve
Stewing resentment at
my loses
The big guns of envy blast
A half beating beaten heart
I Have wounded me with
Myself
The wreck of my attachment
I must be my own surgeon
And counsellor and priest and lover.
I Elder me myself
I am from the gutter
I will not surrender
but
Rage at the alter of a long dead god.
Rebirthed in every second
In my breath and tears
Every shudder and shiver
In utter defiance
It is in every syllable
I utter and the silence I mother.
