Unmapped (poetry)

I am unmapped
Perhaps a death trap
Mud and muck
Got stuck –
Waiting on the rapt

Classic yellow
Fellow mellow
But I’m not good with things
I’m not good with things
Broken gifts for kings

I identify as an angel
Tattooed “faithful”
Lost in the desert
At hell’s round table
Stories like a fable
Morals undo Abel

This is your doing
The grief lying here
Patches on the wall
Want to disappear

Like the earth
She’s able to manifest dreams
Bursting at the seams
Whatever life deems
She’s our winning team
Lick her from the stream

© Delia Ross. 2022 / @poeeternal

Never. Been. More. Suicidal. In. My. Life. Yee-haw.

Merry Christmas y’all

(Don’t have plan B or Z but preparing for escape) (no, from the city asshole, not life)

(Try and keep up)

The new suicidal is saving your life, in daring attempts of escape. Instead of leaping from the bridge, finding safety where there is none.

Chilling on the ledge and don’t trust the rumble

Cliff breaks

Gotta climb high to find escape route…

Everything in the house is nearly gone

Gotta hire junk removal services or pay some locals in the neighborhood to drag it to back of property to the bin (cuz I’m too disabled to lift)

My parents did not properly socialize me for childhood or adulthood

“Sins of the father and the mother”

The reason I’m so angry is they are still alive getting away with atrocities

Sleeping sound…

God damn all ye merry gentlemen

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