Screams like a banshee,
An old love
Outside the bedroom window
Soulful mourn
And nondescript yells.
Small notes with scratch fingernail pattern.

Falling asleep in the spiral
Green, because of trees.
Not friends anymore,
Moving onto better things
Better things are bigger.
Better things are important.
Better things are meaningless purpose.

Giving up on a lifestyle
Because of a paycheck
Into a hotel full of the dead
Where it is most hospitable
Until the realization,
That you’re sleeping in an incomprehensible lie.
Not happy
Not content.
No peace.

Only War.

War never changes
In deep voice
It climaxes
With knives
With grenades
And
Atom
Bomb
Fission love.
Leaving behind
Ruby
Sky
Death.

Silence
Is of ghosts
Until
We
All
Become them.