i hear my dead friends calling to me
i'm hallucinating probably,
but i turn towards these abstract noises
to distract me from impossible choices-
walking, marching really
for some reason i can't feel my feelings.
glitter in her makeup
somehow reminiscent of stars
but in a pathetic sort of way.
i tell her i've crushed my crutches,
i lie and say i'm clean
but even i know nothing's dirtier then lies
and anyway
i'm a fiend of the worst sort
distortion of heavy metals
melt them into petals
we throw them away one at a time
we stay young and wonder
if we were ever in bloom.