of the trees
copy the title
her coda made me want to-
mourning becomes her, or so they say
can there be rest in war?
there is only one peace in war
and the rest of leftovers in war forever
out of sorts
in battle ships
a tricky subject
let’s not forget that terrible celebration
look at what you’ve made me do. You have turned me into.
The basilisk turned on me and said,
I don’t write about politics
I don’t want to belong
I don’t like you
I simply want my definition.
“I am doomed to annihilate you”
But there is a fine line between outsider and autocracy.
There is always someone like you, whether you like it or not.
such modern victims
we destroy each other with frankness
but we are damned anyway
and how harmonious that can be
So let all of our noses be bloody.