I think I have come to the realization
That poetry is my soul.

It is the song my soul sings,
It is the air I breathe,
Depth, the only language I speak.

I only lose my writing
When I've lost myself.

And when they come for me
To put me somewhere I don’t want to be
Somewhere I can never stay
Saying things I could never say
In accordance too
What the devil has in mind
Bodies in refrigeration
It’s Mad Max time
Disease ridden bats
Festering slop of swine
I could hide out here all day
In boxes made of pine 🌲