You demand
almost everything
but you never
pay the price
Everyday
you point to mirrors
just to prove
that your right
light ulcers
on green mascara
envy smiles
for awhile
the Good times
do not last
howl specters
of dead youth
Like a dove
whose time has come
peace rots
and war blooms
When you burn
Paperhearts
two dimensions
shrivel down
into one
and I just cannot get enough
Sitting in
our Paperhearts
dropping in
mushroom skies
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