Melancholy & Missing Lighters

 You're all going to die, There's nothing you can do, You're all going to die, There's no one you can sue, You can't take your clothes, You can't take your jewels, You're all going to die, And you all look like fools. Another snooty town, Full of people, those fiends, Another snooty town, No one will help me leave, You can't take your clothes, You can't take your jewels, You're all going to die, Might as well help me through?

He said: "Look at what I found, I think that it's cocaine", I left to go and see if they were building our train, I came back to find my love limp and face pale blue, Our train took off and I did what I could do. I was slapped by an email that rejected my poem, The slap left me bleeding with a punctured eardrum, I cried through the vertigo and tore through my pack, I found my narcan, then I slapped him right back. He said: " Why would you cut fentynal in ketamine? "Or any psychedelics? It makes no sense to me, "They're trying to kill us," he continued in despair, "They just want to own us, and make us unaware, "I've lost many friends to this useless filler, "Yuppies blame us for the fault of our killer." Take what you want from the words that he has said, All I know's I almost lost my closest friend. Maybe people shouldn't treat drug users with such hate, They've got their own reasons to self-medicate, Like docto...

Bookshelf by the door, Lined with tales of faeries, and Guides to the wild world

 I think myself a faerie, As nature seems to know, When to pick me up, When I've sunken low.

This country is not a home; it is a plantation, a coal mine, a factory, a corporation. This world breeds independence; independent cogs only meeting to spur production. Our families are too small, our cities are too big. You must work to be worthy. You must not ask for help, or else you're helpless. We have our natural talents and duties, yet we're only deemed useful when we share the same routine. On the road, left to the streets, I've found my clan, my community. Yet seldom can we meet without raising suspicion. We're suspects of freely following our natural human rhythm. So often we're forced, we always SEPA RATE. To make miles, to survive, in the production plant, we must be alone to get by. At every yard and every on-ramp, we're forced to say 'goodbye'. No cart of mule without special permission allowed. Only dusty freight and automobiles that always break down. I can't rise in the morning and see you all there. We can't share stories and sh...