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Letting Go

MK Ultra

Gooey calms Jeffrey

We found my cousin
in my uncle Trevor's barn,
he slit his arm from
wrist to elbow and
back again.

Hey lay there twitching,
a goldfish in broken glass,
they shook him, begged, pleaded,
I said: "Let it be-
he's gone, gone, gone."

There's a sweetness in the worst things.

My room was bare, so I
hung a fuchsia over my bed.
The blooms hang heavy,
thrusting pistil, dripping spores;
almost obscene, withered and ignored,
they fall to the floor.

There's a sweetness in the worst things.