I--

beware
of the lipstick curve
on the edge of my lips
of the bit of a tooth
'cause it's hinting at this:

that i'm crushing my foes
with the spike of my heel
and i'm queen of my world
and i'm numb to appeal

and i'm driven to quit
i don't care how it hurts
i won't take anymore
i won't take anymore...

II--

my value in this dungeon
is a flawed calculation; my
value is determined by a
jealous whim. my value here
is one minus one; my value here
is not my toil and sweat,
not the hours i give nor the **** i get,
not the castles i've built,
not the care i take,
not the people i help,
not the pittance i make,
not the battles i've won,

i'm done.

III--

dylan thomas said, "do not go gentle."

three years, and i have been but a breeze,
a wind, a gust;
now i am on the cusp of hell
and in my tornadic fury i will rip trees from the earth
i will leave fields flat and rivers dry
and i will topple bricks and shred the sky
and bid you good-bye--

good
night.