fromthebottomup

There is now a certain level of resentment I hold for you

It was inevitable, please

Do not be alarmed.

Even your scent brings forward such disdain

As the revolution had for the incumbent

The coup was staged

And won.

If only was I privy to their arsenal

Rouge en colère

It would have helped meeh then

It could aide meeh now.

And now I sit and wonder where I have wandered off to

This setting is far from familiar

I would like to run

But have not the slightest idea as to where this road begins

Or even ends.

Here, the sun rises in the south

And sets in the north.

There is no east and west

The wind blows from the bottom up

And we walk on clouds.

The lightening begins in the sky

And the rain soaks through my underwear

My outer garments dry

The wind doesn’t blow up here.

The macadam hails

And the lucky have sense knocked into them

I should have known

The day I met you I cried.

My fault, I avoided the hail storm.