Poor Mr Black,
My cat,
Skin likes leper,
He has an old enemy,
It ease a him to lick
So lick he does,
Nearly all his hair is gone on one side,
Much to hot to sit with blanket on,
He and his Salmon has been in our hand me down doggie kennel for three hours,
See with PTSD think those are the letters,
Can’t have anything crawling on me,
I panic see,
And outcomes,
This horrific,
Terrising scream,
Next week he will be on the mend
Five dollars might seem change to you,
But in the thirtieth of September,
My small coffees are empty,
I have twenty tucked away toward a bill
The money I promised monthly to my old bank,
Today I put $5.00 in gas tank,
Got bread and salmon, and some granola and a muffin and had a six dollar lunch,
See I was starving
Will check by mechanicin Ossian Iowa,
Saturday after food bank eighty five miles away,
Get Blacks medicine,
Come home,
Might go by and say Hi to Pat,
Postville IowA,
Just says it’s wrong to have food stamps,
But my adopted sister has a husband,
As a single lesbians one trip to food bank is not enough food for a month,
There are no three meals a day,
Myth,
I’ll hold black tonight,
His skin is horrible,
When he is well he is not clingie,
Black’s coat is lovely,
When well,
I hate that he is suffering,
I hate that I’m fearful,
Trauma there are no words what my half sister did to mom and me,
The Narcississ wanted to live off what mom had after dad’s death,
I will Not go to human services for food assistance,
They did nothing to stop the horror mom and I and my younger sisterwithstood from May 2010- 2020,
Mom and Ellen death,
Screaming inside not as.benifitual
Val's Whitewolf Books 