been twenty years and it’s hard to see.
what all the madness means to me.
bumble and snitch and bandersnatch.
time moves forward but I hold back.
whipping the willow, trying to flow.
past what is real and what is known.
is it the drugs or just a bad sack.
peanuts and penny whistles come to attack.
waste all the apples and make me a meal.
find a fine flower with petals to steal.
thought I found love but it’s all an escape.
these are the pies that memory makes.