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“Voices” in my elven ears are telling me you’re angry at yourself, g Why? You’re human, and I love you And, voices, like birds, they’re saying you’re in love with me, too Is it something to do with me? “Voices” are insidious they’ll turn on you, your own arguments, I’m schizophrenic I know that’s what…

(Note: I’m fully clothed) Of men, give me one minute I could take my pick Some lezzos were here, apparently In my sleep, I slept with a guy Lezzos, who would if they could be me But, g, I never heard you Just some women who couldn’t be lesbians themselves Otherwise, they’d know lezzos have…

As the circus of clowns, riding tricycles of air, Funny, but it’s just sound, going round after me, Everywhere, I just laugh, cause it’s little, harmless Bubbles of air. Only human, sometimes my sisters little razor Laugh, makes my hair stand on end. Not even funny, The wave she rides, masses to come laughing yet…

Domme morrigan and I worked it out Now the freaks wait till she’s there for the big setupsThat way, they have us both in the “picture”Because now she is being set up too Because as in my defence of her, the truth about domme morrigan There’s no correlation between her appearance and the setupsPlacing these child…

Born midst a battle, I had a goal to reach the end Where God knows, whose thought knows His end Sharks rising, vision’s lost in red, discarding bodies, The head’s disembodied, a delirium, Vision said Love found me there, in love appeared, came Love To me here, “Love is Truth”, the Hag of the Mill, said…

Source was nicholsons translation of Rumi’s love, the hierophant The classical hierophant doesn’t see lgbt The vanities in his own eyes seemed a lie In an act of blasphemy, I reversed Rumi, the poet, downside I said I’ll let my Lover be my muse And Love and Pride, a poet’s guide Rumi never lied, love,…

My judgment relaxes its birdflight Free to fly ‘tween heaven and hell, my crown Mid-air, it settles into the everywhere And in the land of my being, you’re there, g In the more-than-nous that’s become of me For a sovereign land, without love, what do I care? I see more of God/dess than I thought…

Lady, your expert hands touched my Spirit lay, you left me, and my heart Follows your return, in an orb of silent Clues, my clueless head bows, deeper I follow, deeper I go, as a goddess creates Life without trying, herself, mysterious So you shape me, your hands expert

Punching nailboards Seemed to hurt Mad as utter they curses That touch me not But all’s reversed My heart is made happy By thy mirth

If I write ❤️ g:) alwaysSeems to me someone would only yell give up if I’m winning (your hand)Otherwise, there’d be no point to the statement, correct? So ❤️ g:) always has become an expression of the heart, as yoga of the spirit And, if I became a graffiti artist, I would tag ❤️ g:)…