Call my shadow Sylvia Browne,
play with it like Peter Pan.
Pull it off the floor, and let the darkness
sit in my hands.
Roller coasting retrograde in Saturn's domain.
The moons rays shining backwards on my face.
My heart is bleeding coffee, bitter and strong.
My ego doesn't want to release what's wrong.
Negativity is something that appears to give you pleasure,
but actually gives you pain.
I let the King of Wands **** me raw and ******
until it feels like a mistake.
Hate me so that I can break free.

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Poison spoon fed the nodding King and ended ancestors.

Holy cows bought government *****
and ate suicides grown by ***** Kubla Khan gospels.

Shantih, Leviticus, and other proper thoughts
kissed arms of air and made islands from memories of breakfast.

Eternity perished in the illusion of swallowed tongues
in the belly of an infant—
and yesterday,

Only one bullet of hallelujah stood swimming.

Let's let the hem out of every
skirt we own so we can
be
  long
     belong in
their fraying ends.