Inside I’m running,
Tears mosten my face,
Gotta rise for the shear delight,
A warm,sweet kitten held in my hands,
Cradled near my face,
Blessed not to be human
The delight of never feeling; uncertain,
Or the emptiness that fails to egnight this day for me,
I will hold all six,
hope their life will warm me and start my heart,
The abyss feels near enough to pull me in,
Swallowing me,
Blackness seeps into my sadness,
Listen to “Its crappy” from Val’s Whitewolf Books on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/val-heike-whitewolf/episodes/A-gay-Iowan-Poet-e2fet3p/Its-crappy-aaufb9g