This isn’t, This is


This isn't a welcome mat
This is an ancient prayer rug
This isn't an apartment
This is a palace

No chairs;
no hats
These are thrones
These are crowns

I am the king of hearts
bleeding everywhere
Oh, yes it appears I have
given myself a lobotomy

I’ve fallen off the deck
with what is mightier than my sword
into a pool of dirty laundry,
as hairy as this seems

This isn't dancing
This is Darwinian growing pains
This isn't living
This isn’t dying in fashion, this is dying with style


Published at Little Rose Magazine