In Your Bootstraps
'I never knew you’.
it’s too common a phrase to govern my day
but it’s just to say that I’m solemn at bay
and it’s pouring some rain
acetic laden - your dominant state's
my prominent play – 'I never pulled through’
- Souffleur on Solomon’s grave.
our punishment made in the modest of ways:
child with spectacles meets its sovereign mate
‘I never skewed truths'.
you fostered me – not in a metaphorical way
but literally, you lifted me on my chimerical climb
inner misfit sinks in liquids at an ‘immeasurable’ price
everything can be valued at dice so that’s an intentional lie
mistaking somersaults for rolls on my inevident thrive
‘I never pursuit ruse’.
‘poured one out for you’ just the other day
eight-year old liquid got that proper taste
the one you gifted me for my wondrous trait
remember me in a bit of a raucous rage?
leathered leads for a trip to my tarnished trace
severed these through a sip from that Bacardi sway.
we are both morally morbid yet oxymoronic on calling
one of us is prone to their most toxic of thoughts and
as the golden-glee in mornings turns to an atomic process
an oneiric blur is my coveting orbit.
‘I never used you’. I been told you inhabited me,
my mind, every fucking.. *insertable scene*
my Gemini, the ever-core of an insatiable seed
Sister to Lilith – they call you the manic in me
‘schizoaffective’ – that’s how they unravelled my dream
I can feel the leather straps again.. the sedative stream..
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