For the Love that Wrecked/Left/Abandoned me

All you’re good for is applying labels,

and I don’t mean to be the rebellious 
Cain to your Able,
but you’re just some bygone sin
that’s gone with the wind,
and frankly my dear, I’m Clark Gable
saying, ‘I don’t give a damn.”

Miss Stunning Maple Leaf, out of place in vacant sands, 
composed of cable cars, and 
fabricated promised lands,
and dusty stables.

You’re a staple of androgynous misinterpretation,
and I ladled you from a soup bowl of
tourniquets and serpents;

watched you dance,
like a monkey in a circus
to the circuitous chirp of
intellectual laziness and corresponding sermons.

You’re a nervous breakdown
disguised as a halo of light,

but might-makes-right
bullshit aside, 
I see the blood dripping from your fangs

even if everyone else 
refuses to

Willie Watt


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