The wheels of the bus grind into my flesh.
You proffer your own salvation,
as martyrdom trumps your hand.
Leave me the fuck alone show.
Let me sleep my nights in peace
and walk around corners
Bark into your own backyard.
Eat what you put out there;
antacids don’t soothe vitriol.
Choke, you bitch.
Choke on the reflux of your words.
Brenda Warren 2015