Never Thought I’d be Here, this Sadness, Madness Held (11/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

What a day is this that I wake so cold & also so very much alone, I

a pitiful wreck another of a hundred million more designed for bait, kept

alive by malicious hands to shovel hate & superstitions your way, toiling

so hard as to make a heart & a brain forget; they call me wretched.

Swearing that you would pray, pay for all the love we didn’t have to have
Taking the time away from me, from us, everything in between.
Rotting inside a vision held, telling, told all.  (Insanity?)
Nueva is just a name - my game is love. 
 
Not. be care.  free there.  Free Love.
 
Make us
Free.
 
Falling apart, found somewhere in the black between the quasars, I trip, I 
spoil inside the sun you insist on casting, the war worth waging strung up 
on genitals preaching, high school high score being the all time high
all the time yes yet then still we are flailing there, high beyond goalposts.
 
There was a table too, white clothier there was on a wall behind, fast red
bleeding deep, pulling a weeping child & lover out through the void there 
that is everything that we doth now make & define & cast our lines, our 
lives, our lots beside the barnyard terrycloth pulling fast.  Shed there.
 
My mind seethes out there beside the partition where you criticized my 
tastes, my loving heart to collapse on wooden steps, making the turn 
where the dog carves witness marks for all the times we wouldn’t hug, 
wouldn’t yell out at the gloom that consumes your past holds fast to ware.
 
You wouldn’t pray, fucktard, when I asked, claimed Christian when your 
sex fast falling, a debauchery slogging fast (did they know we sexed upon 
the second time?) same as when you’re coming cast, no second cuming 
before the diodes shift, before the wand doth find that crotch I paid for. 
 
It.  Stings.  More than your nails upon a chest did rake, pull it up from the 
sands where I lay, passed the gold I poured a bottle full at a time into doth 
lies, does try upon the same swallowed pile as wont fit inside a mouth so 
greedy as not to let the words fly free – forgiveness isn’t in your nature.
 
Bastard.
 
So pack it into the ground, where I will say any words that will cut or 
score or make your mind forget not that hatred can have a flavor here.
 
Fed Freely.