Wishes are Granted for a Price: Notes from the Dead Letter Office

I can’t seem to love
My consumedĀ apprehension
Filled with every trope
too close to the sun.

Come back… it’s all over now.
I’ve done so much with so much less
Can’t seem to get clean.

Nightmares once dreams
as Lucifer once angel
Never to be forgiven
returned to the shelf of grace.

Hit me with everything, give me all ya got
It’s not your fault
There is nothing left to fight.
…and it tastes just like

Before others there was home
out there configured, cataloged
1995 summer edition
with a power all it’s own
mistook, maligned
calling out lip-less.
976 popcorn
show stoppers.

I’m fine said the wolves
dragging you down
unraveling distant echos
of men built on the framework
of children’s conformity.

Repeat, rewind fluid destroy
to keep me close
cold, uneven cloaked enveloped
rational unclean, absorbed intrusion
inject once empty
fluid dynamics.

We adore only to destroy
whispers do wonders
ponders paths obsolete
panders sweet ego
greedy little piggy
undisputed reciprocal
shit diamond cherry pickers.

Things we can’tt say
Baby on board stickers
Traffic jammers and crammers.