Shut up.

Pale she staggers
Her blouse blooded
Her teeth broken
A razor in her hands

America is watching, laughing.

There was a sudden rain
And She was Springtime
She was Wanda having seen an angel
She was madness that can't be tamed by prayers
Peals of laughter
Tides of joy
And wrath
And despair like babushkas hiding more despairs.
Stone upon stone
Whatever She finds on her way
She takes it with her.

Now I stare into the void
Thinking I want to ride wild horses
And fade into the Opiate Yellowness of the East,
To lose myself.

Now I live in the world of dreams
Whenever my pen shines like
A steel knife in the dark,
The skies blacken the nights
Which are the empty elevators
Traveling up and down
The floors of hope.

And Springtime, the pale one, staggers, without a refuge,
Or someone to lean on