Helicopter water ballet
And Charlie's on the grid

Front and centering feng shui
Choreographed in the fields
Where ****** sticks to kids

War is the fashion
That never wears out

Smell its smoke
Sickly sweet and orange
In the early decay of morning

Asylum white walls
Bear a single feather.
A work of art.

I am left all alone again.
Peace and tranquility.

Spoon feeding ******
That tastes more like maple syrup
And relief
Than anything I've ever known.

i can't believe he didn't love me--

i spent so much time
dreaming of what we
could've been,,, and
what we never had, **

on
those days when sunlight
would pour through glass
like liquid ****** and drown my
mind as if
nothing else existed// i remember..:

how i still coughed and cried;
knowing he gave
me up, as though
the memory of us was just a
vignette...

stained,
fleeting.