Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics

If this was nothing more than destiny, that would be great. Then I wouldn’t have to blame it all on me.. (part 1 of 5)

I want destiny to taste

The last sliver of air

Netted in my lungs.

It’s Nitrogen imbued

With a wink of vinegar,

And a gasp of sour carbon,

Made all the more potent

By a throat varnished

In wood turpentine.