Her Nickname Is Messiah

Wandering to my morning classes, I wonder if my ruins would look different than they would have yesterday. Is this fair? I think to myself and the sun blazed ground–around here nothing you love comes back. Back to back to wall–too close to call you friend too bashful to call you lover. That is this. I’ve had this much. It is two o’clock and I think it is a sunday. I tell the animal to calm down that is outside my window. She doesn’t say much but when she does I write it down. Her nickname is messiah. A goddess gift from a cloud filled with her own reign she lit her own throne on fire–and walked away nameless. Refusing that she was related to anything but God. That spirit. That factor. She folds her arms into themselves and sleeps. --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/nakedpoetry/support