Elements and Breathing Habits

Oh Muse,
why so harsh and
swiftly away
as of late,
taking tea with bloodbath hands
and fake memories
implanted in the
dusty head of
suicide trees,
the winking moon,
poor Dante and his
fall of man,
and Jesus did weep,
in the end,
that was more
a beginning,
when you think about it.

I choked down tears,
talks with the
stirring outside my window frame,
drainpipes fucked up on toxins,
fornication governments
all of which lead
straight for the
dear wild wisdom oceans
that tossed and turned me
into my nightmare reveries
ever to awake my spirit with
gnashing lusty teeth
inside my own head,
following me to 
the star-lighted
who groans for no man,
just fire-breathers
to mix with her
ferocious flames,
purge her icy waters,
be underneath her in the earth.

Fortune telling
came so natural to me,
like the urge
to ride your face,
it was instinct,
not something that
I even,
asked for,
I hated my visions
most of the time,
damned me forever
to loneliness, and
spirits were the only
ones who seemed to care
on this weary plane
of egos and
cancer treatments,
and misery,
always seemed to find me,
on that yellow bricked
to nasty and
And I tried so hard
to howl loud enough
so you could hear my thoughts,
staining the walls of your bedroom,
understand and move
with me,
my wasting away
into death thoughts
and love,
in the light,
that took me,
thank god,
away from here. 

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