Night Night Amer-icano'S

 
 
She thinks - he scares me
 
 
The ambiguous  
self-less-ness  
writes letters to the moon
in ink-blots
on grease-proof paper
 
Lives
16 hours sleeping through  
barking dogs
singing birds
and [dying] trees
 
The [self] inflicted  
[self] hurt
[self] breaking
wouldn't shoot fear in
lightly tinted cello-phane
 
I'll wait for Karma
She's just making
breakfast for her kidlettes
while she hangs her  
[under]wear
on the
 
washing
 
line
 
 
[.]