You poetry

6.26am: bitch filth arrive, or are they freaks

Or are they the same, or never different

The indistinguishable mass horde has arrived

On anti-clouds, bitch-fake, set in their dark ways,

Reckoning full well, Earth’s own hell beginning

Among them. Aware of everything, I think only

You poetry, in love falling from my heart,

My rock, my soul-mate, my moonlight guide