1.31.

I grew up in a
dead relic
culture
Sometimes
I wonder if
I  am to
abide by
My Mans
law

Wandering so
delicately
I am becoming
Mother Nature
slowly reclaiming

Ivory castles
Fragrance
of
frankincense
Dissolving lies
with butterfly
nets
That were weaved
so faithfully
by dear
Penelope
In midnights
past
Made from
her silk tears
and cobwebs
crystal clear

Every now and then
I catch me a clever man

Laying and lying
in fields with
My Man
Les Fleur Sauvage
Telling him my
visions of Eastern
catastrophes

For eight days
My Baby
you won’t be
able to find
me
I’ll be planting
White Lilies
in the Red Caves
in my dreams

And I have seen
the futures
Tasted the fear
Watched the
Angels cry
their fiery
tears  

The road to heaven
is paved with
bad intentions

And Dear Lord
When I do get to
Hell
Please let me
bring
My Man
He’s a real
*******
We’re gonna
burn
hand in hand