Apr 12
sweetness of
the moon rains down
on the last bus
going home
all the flowers
crushed beneath
the sky
cry for the
mother tree
for she was standing
still when I met her
I don't know what
else to tell you
I've never known
what it feels to be
someone else
and you don't
exist inside these
walls
perhaps I'll trade
all my fantasies for one
moment of absolute
violence
it's not that hard
to mute what little
is left of me
is this how you feel
when you are sober?
