Titled, I Wrote This While I Was Deliriously Tired at Work.

Birthing blame twisted

sick uprooted
upended over
done and terrified
of conscience

don’t kill me
but I don’t want
to live
you get

me you know
you feel it
too it’s obvious
we’re all

twisted lies hurting us
all eating our foundation
we’re collapsing in sick

and twisted bound in tundras
of existence no life
but microscopic
moss

and water in my mind
pushing revolution out
like Athena
from Zeus I’m

heretic.

I don’t believe in this poem, but I’m forcing myself to post everything I write, liked I used to, from now on.

Officially welcoming myself back to the world,

Luz