...

life?
it is as it is
as it always has been in the ocean of hour

i am the black sheep
but without a shepherd ; and i will wander whatever
plains i want     to trample.

but graze upon no poison cotton lands ; product of white sheep flea
bite me ; for i will not return to herds of hell
my shepherd does not live,
 it breathes in death's frown
you frown upon sunshine, it seems
you can be anything
just as a nobody can slap labels on you
as if you are a jar of expired honey

but for now it seems i AM the shepherd
         and my black sheep shadow; forever following.