air plane battles

Some lambs are born

to be slaughtered

a garish on a silver plate

I serve my purpose

I bleed when I need

bad boys never take me home

I know a dog can bite

I know to always have a bone

You should have murdered me

like the one before

You should have been stronger

Now I waste my time

I dilute

I pollute

I smother my lover

I'm just too fucking nice

and there's no changing that.

May 23rd 2017

September obituary

Am I a ghost yet?

Check for my children

Tucked in their beds

Do you see their sweet heads

Can you hear them dreaming?

A mother always 

stays earthbound 

At least for this night 

This well done summer eve

The yolk sits still on this plate 

The wolves have found me 

Yet I am not scared 

I long to feel.

Their teeth cannot compare to

your nonchalant words 

Your dead love

Your waiting game

September sounds like a nice time

To die 

Written September 9th 2017