All I can see is smoke            
I can't see anything
It's raining hard
I can't see anything, I can just smoke.
My head is filled with smoke.
There's nothing I could possibly use in my head,
It's made up of bad thoughts and smoke.

There's so much smoke in my head
There's so much smoke to see.
There's too much of everything.

Smoke, smoke, smoke.
Smoke, that's all I can do,
Smoke.
Hoping that my problems will go away.
I guess smoke does take a great place in my head.
I'll keep on smoking, so it take it all up, so it takes up
My whole head, my whole mind.

Smoke, thoughts and failures, that's what I'm made of.                       -M.B.H.

I'm living rent free inside your mind
asking why you don't miss me
you're scratching
aching
trying to get me out

I show up in your mind
you blink trying to make me fade away
I'm whispering questions
wondering why you stopped loving me when we never wanted to end up this way

I've sunk into your skin
every time she kisses you where I did you still feel the tingle I left
when she touches you there isn't a spot that doesn't burn from me

I've made a bed inside your chest
each time she lays on you she doesn't hear your heartbeat
she hears mine
simply because that is the only tune I ever sung to you

I cursed your nose
I soaked your bed sheets with my perfume
your bathroom never ceases to lose my scent
both side of your pillows have my breath melted into them

I hope you still taste me
you can't escape me like you want to

We are America.
We are the coffin fillers.
We are the grocers of death.
We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.

The bomb opens like a shoebox.
And the child?
The child is certainly not yawning.
And the woman?
The woman is bathing her heart.
It has been torn out of her
and as a last act
she is rinsing it off in the river.
This is the death market.

America,
where are your credentials?