I am nastily sentimental,
all sugar and spice
with a hot vinegar stench.
I stand in the shining lights
of petulance, open to the
sun.
The amber dust weaves
a rhapsody in my
dark conscience.
I am Phoebe in
satin and brocade,
prissy and foolish.
I stand guard over
my emotions,
sucking in the drops of
arrogance that
drip from the power
of accomplishment.
I crush the benevolent hearts
of tired drunken daughters,
their tears are my prayers.
My anger wipes the quiet
from their soul.
Bathing in my wisdom is
their only answer.

04/23/2014