Jasmine.

sweet scents and sentiments amid the sarcasm of chain smoking deviants.
places betrayed and flowers made of passed paper planes.
lets share and toss these crumpled works of pesticide, poetry, and compliments.
blah blah blah we say and fly, fly, fly we aim;
for the uncharted skies we crave.
if only they were real,
if only we weren't worn out in the arrangment of letters or the entanglement of fingers.
we are great in this little world built by stop-motion mimes with more time than lines,
every frame captured as the essence to this massive illusion of confusion and crime-an environment filled by jasmine walls and pollinating stars.
there's no vacancy for the sad world between bars.