The patterns are quite clear,
especially if you know
how to decrypt,
how to untangle the web.

It's not brain surgery,
there's no mystery
to your creation
of self.

And you cry,
you cry
the sweetest sounds,
lamenting your downfall
and how could you.

And they,
they love
to have it so,
inhaling a world of pain,
wanting you,
while you smile,
holding strings.

We stayed in a real temple,
bribed the guards
to spend the night with jaguars,
sleep with dolphins
&  listen to the howlers
scream all night,
above our
sacred love-making,
which ended with the rising
of the morning star
& the coming of more tourists
to see crumbling pyramids.

Oft I think of
that older woman,
she taught me so many
wonderful things,
all kinds of acts.
Like how to rock a world,
curl toes & coat the walls,
scramble eggs,
fill a lady up
with tender love.

Well, they're more acts
than those I listed above,
but you do catch my drift.

And the more
I think about her,
the more I realize,
she
was a skilled-pro,
me
a naive innocent,
a willing partner
who didn't know ****
with eyes wide open.

I see summer calling
in the morning sunlight,
she's glistening off
the freshly fallen snow,
it brings me
warmth inside.

Single rounds crack
in foreign valleys,
hitting their mark,
it's stark reality,
a secret,
still going on,
far far away.

I've been ******* & dumping
in a communal hole
for three months.
The enemy gets to go home
& use a private hole there.
This ain't home.
This **** ain't right.

We drove over the dunes
like fluid-mercury,
our effect was that quick
& just as dangerous,
demolishing everything in our way,
adobe was no match for tracked-steel.

The boys
screamed like banshees
with every round
the fifty spit out.

It wasn't just
a series of mad minutes,
it was a maniacal
string of horrible memories.

In a matter of months,
Mike had turned squirrely.
Disheveled & *****,
he would pace around
as if he was being tracked by the NSA,
scratch the invisible insects off his arms,
pick at the sores on his dried lips.
His words came out gibberish,
he made no sense.

I remembered a time
not too long ago,
when he was coherent,
bright & articulate,
a spark burned in his eyes.

Now, he seemed
like a comatose
paranoid zombie,
mindless,
with rotting teeth.

Once it grabs you by the *****,
crystal works that quick,
the pipe-craving
hits you non-stop,
makes you sick.

Chicken fried rice is
the date rate drug of the future,
it’s cheap & everyone likes it.

If anything, the government
could put mood altering drugs in it
to control the general population.

They could run a mass
free buffet campaign,
and by the end of dinner,
control the planet.

You know, how the weak and sick ask for a savior.
But who saves the savior when he is in need?
~~~~

Answer my question honestly in the comments please.