Leaving the Coven

A craven of cronies stood

Between us & God

God hated short skirts, God

Demands clones.

A damnation of judges

Stood between us &

Knowledge; truth exists

Only in service to others.

A clowder of cretins

Stood between us &

Art: “Don’t be disturbing”

“Never trust instincts.”

From the depths of

This oubliette

You drank the koolaid

Guaranteeing your survival

Cherishing passion

Rescuing me –

So I could grow up

And write this poem.

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