Love and Its Evils
Kindly excuse
the spilling of innards
with thoughts,
I disgorge, disentangle
from our intricate, beautiful mess.
You see, I cannot stand
the banality
of your faultless good manners.
I have attempted appreciation,
I have failed,
you have tried at interest,
and now you are spent. The knot
that anchors both our churning gut
is a devilish tether,
love borne of shared outrage,
love on the dregs
below our oppression.
The stubborn, clumsy twine
that binds us to each other, holds us still.
We will always be three,
like Muses,
like Witches,
like brilliant, mad sisters dancing
and chanting away the night.
Pray,
release me.
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