Baby Blue

I woke in a sweat from a desirous fever in the pocket of yesteryear Where faults have fallen to some. I begged not to carry the corpse. To not be a queer fish in unforgiving hearts. To not be buried in native clay and preserved for cynicism. I wish to be a pauper in kind eyes. To feel the gravel beneath my knees. To wake in a home. God had sent my calamity into a deep space from which not even in dreams, Could I ever imagine my escape