to and fro,
across a barren sheet made of plastic things,
sand reduced and weather infested,
a hike made from tiny beads of sweat.

Mountains made from toy soldiers,
rock washed and paralyzed by such great heights,
life vests and parachutes,

back to AZ.

Love you all, even in spurts.

muah!

I dreamt like i've dreamt before,

of something much much more,
made of broken twigs,
from the hash remains of my ancestors.

I've planted the seed of my own garden,

from the apples and oranges,
of a befallen lover,
he wasn't mine, but a dead wife's soldier.

When your person is not around,

you become disconnected in discontent,
and the decisions that ensue,
of what is left for us to return the apathy.

Ticket fare, ticket fare,
won't you warrant for me a golden ticket.
a passge of virtue beyond this hue,
is there a rainbow that holds this pot of luck?

by the generosity of her voice,
she tied a mistleoe upon your lips,
set right with poison to close these veins,
a rush of blood to the thick of hurt.

from the bustle of the burst,
the swelling of her tombs,
came upon a beast made of love,
to rid of this race, to rid of our face.

and when history gets writ upon our very chest,
she'll play the harp and caress the strings,
like a marionette, she'll make you weap,
she'll tie a noose around you made of jealousy.