“ßrick”
In here are classic pictures
milk of miracles of God
but my brain is like a ßrick
and I don’t respond
butterflies in my stomach

the amethyst around my wrist
can’t keep my spirit on
spinning silver nickels
no, won’t carry me along
butterflies in my stomach

the night’s gone fatalistic
not to lose my train of ®ock
love seems a foreign tactic
loving all the wrong
chug, chug, chug, chug…chiiic-chiiiiiic

the blood, the sweat, the tears do drop
so quick, so sick, so thick
I bust with every yawning
quenched among the burning wicks ÷ ÷ ÷
amidst the morning dawning

~ §tacy §weeney