smiles in paper bags
to my mouth to unwind
left to roam in this land
She’s a virgin no more – raped by an inferior man.
Who tells lies to get what he wants.?.
red tulips – blood from the hunt
collective imagination rotted by t.v.
ones given media V.D.
young – burnt by cigarettes
My liquid tongue – speaking secret minarets
Rap is dead. Rock already was
your eyes while the needle’s in
know where you’re going
know where you’ve been
with lost highways
lonely life to begin
to Kurt Cobain:
Amberdeen, WA Boyish-Queen