Flying too close,

     To the memory ache sun, Waking behind the arched tempest back vale of thunder shattered bone cloud ruins, Just beyond the harmonic eclipse of regret as it found with longing the ocean of a mental solace battle pill field of amnesia induced by an illicit box, Hiding the chemically explicit memorandum of a conscious gone catatonic rogue via a signature's never implicated and only death whispered bed admitted desire to impede silence upon a throbbing violence wounded child of Sandcastle Earth.

      She would never walk past the white anaesthetized translucent jacket woven in her spell captive bound mind, A indoctrinated marionette pariah one foot lingering on the memory solar inner dead imaginative eye blind tormenting ache and the prerogative to overcome... To wake.

In lieu of our participation in,

Medicating our youth