it’s like jet lagging
can’t sleep
on cannonballs
and fly deep to an uncertain but superior destination 
for the next couple of minutes 
trying not to open your eye. what can i say?
it’s your money.

A robbers daughter
winking in the dusty dark
let me drink of that spark
root beer and sink in you
dear haha..
on that courier route
with pills in your pocket
you are different tonight.

there is that refugee in a fairytail
told by the old men at the corner
while the moon flowers the atmosphere
and here and there comin those little blossoms blond out of the ground
exploited and exploded
like happiness hormones
trying to get me too
but i’d rather walk with you
to haze land.