Fever

                 Always so unsure,
         but not when the wheat is white
     and my hair is spun in the silkiest of silk
just given a tar bath and wrenched of my heart's own kind.

I think not.
Pensive and generous.
Thee had no compensation
for fornicating me into my world.

I have to admit, my element never lies to me
Guess the goddess is real, and she spit water in my dreams. Begging for me to
                 wake up, gods are after me.
              The energy, my soul was a ticket of
            gold, thee is just seven of wands. Now I've
       spared my pentacles. And I have
                                    the sperms stuck in my claws
                                 while laying in dirt.


I'm so done.

Not broken though, o no. Just bleeding through it all.
the dust and the black
   o how earthly and intensifying my blood of love is.
 When I cross the alps
with half soul stitched to
the body of a seabreed on a  thin line.

I believe I'm competent of anything.
   But fate brought me in glassy teeth and shells for nails, hands
              for hydro steel.
                              she dropped me in blood crepes, I
          arose from oceanis and then
    my devil became thee,
a dolphin,
tramp kind,
submerged
in a coal chamber.