…and now you believe you know my story
the controversies of your phallus ideology
fearing the void of a blood soaked page,
etched markings of scars left to age,
tear-less, these eyes lay dry
haunting the clouds of a melancholy sky.
choking life from collapsed veins.
memories of when the floods last came.
An empty vial, a constructed belief
an idiots guide to phallic relief.