Dead wood, no good.

Get rid of the dead 

wood that won’t burn 

like wet yew branches.

People are dead wood,

like soul callouses.

They cling to you,

bring only judgement.

Spouting forth sin,

or their own piss;

its all the same

when you don’t drink it.

They call you wrong,

say you are useless, 

no use for burning.

I smack the dead wood

out of my life,

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She speaks up for the thousandth time,

when it's easier to keep quiet.

A star who says what's is in her soul

when you respond with your mouth.

A shard of silver pain in her heart.

But they have no idea.

You say the first thing in your head,

collapse her nebulous boundaries.

She’s a people pleaser, easily moved

by those who would like her to fall.

A nebula that ca...

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