Have a conversation with her
And then try to tell me the deity you serve is not a woman.
Monotheism wrapped in feminity
She pulls prayers from lips
Hallowed be thy waist
Ay, men seek her understanding.
Such royalty and grace
That loyalty is embraced by her subjects
They carry out her will across the empire of the page.
She is divine inspiration to testaments new and old.
Truth be told, she’s the Goddess of dope.
She is the Hera in heroine,
However you spell it.
You will crave for her to save you
Then be addicted to her rescue
Asking her to protect you from the needle you choose to hold.
Aim for the vein.
Shoot her serum from the pen into your bloodstream and hallucinate from her visions.
Shiver from your fixation on her sentences.
Become so obsessed with the contents of her vials
That you invoke her name, begging for repentence.
So beautiful is she whom adjectives worship
Making devotees feel more connected to her words by the letter like cursive.
Whether her followers are junkies or zealots,
The belief is worth it.
She bestows blessings by the gram
Her creativity in the pot, mixed with grammar
Produces therapeutic anasthesia
From her hand and wrist to yours
See the aura of Isis in her irises.
Disciples build towers of Babel
Just to be closer to her in the sky.
It’s a bird
It’s a plane
It’s your mama
It’s your daddy.
It’s the heroin heroine that sits on high.
