S U G A R G A I T

She finds herself hungry and with no means to eat
Outside of what exists in her pantry

Hunger is sometimes the extent of her self-awareness

Empty pantries are realities that permit riding wild
But her spurs are tucked away with her freedom

So she stocks her shelves with simple mixes
Like those required to make acquaintances

Mixing voices takes a toll
She yearns to ride horses
Spurring the gallop in her soul
She vows to fuel the forces

So sets out for the desert
Strips them of their beavers
Takes each head in her hands
Shouting, “Eat your sacred fear!”

One by one they fall down
She stands back and moans
In the juice of life they drown
To struggles, not theirs to atone


Be the crazy horse that defeats the bull and on your death bed, look down and smile at the shine on your dessert boots.