MaryJane

Flowers and buds he said, 

they make a lot of money. 

They make a lot of friends, 

they make a lot of enemies 

that wait until dawn for you

just to see that you're okay.

Stealing her things, 

I dance, 

raining on the future, 

but Father won't make it legal. 

I'm broke in my peasantry,

when the grass was dead and brown, 

scalding summers  

scarring the earth crispy. 

Oasis in the six six six, 

my bride met me on a late evening and 

lit my chest afire,

smoke swirling spirals gagging me. 

Chemical eclipse dragging over me like 

the wet hurt I wear in the sunlight, 

wading through tides of melancholy, 

she is gone.

Too many late nights alone in music, 

in the palm of her hand. 

I guess I'm lying because 

my heart can't break anymore, 

she left me addicted to this poison. 

It's the only rush I need.