Jet fuel for breakfast, skip lunch;
Dinner with poison on the side.
Unkempt and rickety as a scarecrow in the field,
Corvid covered anyway;
Picking a labyrinth apart with dirty fingernails.
I’ve been inkstained scarlet, red as church,
Tattered threadbare,
And pierced by sprouting Flora,
A creature of joy, elegant as cathedral lighting.
On days like these, I love my rotten guts and chipped canine grin.