A cold day in August

Waking up to a cold room, makes it hard to get out of bed. Makes it harder to peel of the warm clothes you slept in and slide into the cold uncomforting jeans in the metal cabinet. The cold just gets worse. Getting outside to bring the bike out, and gets even worse pedaling by the cars whizzing by on the road. Hands nipped by the bitter wind and chokes the handle bar. Hands trying to warm my heart sitting around friends. Cold around my friends.

A warm day in June

Waking up in the middle of a dark night. Dreached in sweat. My blanket is at my feet and my head throbs from the lack of water. I feel that sticky warm air, I smell the sick sweat filled room and I think. What day is it again? I forgot the date about last week, not that it mattered anyway. School was out and there was noones who really needed to check up on me while they were gone for work. So I laid there till the afternoon, then to night again. I lost 11 pounds in two weeks.

Dismal Days in December

The days keep getting colder and the thoughts tell me to fold her. Hold her down and just get the worst out of it over. I keep looking at the time and it doesn’t get much slower. My memory becomes all mixed, and nothing ever really starts to fit. I keep calling all the numbers who just tell me not to slip. They keep telling me “boy it ain’t easy but all you’ve go to do is try. Its not hard, all you got to do it learn how not to die”. Not to die? I’ve done that for all these years, she can testify. Hang me up, I’ll be okay to crucify.

A Sweet Sixteen (it’ll leave a mark)

I didn’t really want a sweet sixteen. I was more of a savory person myself. 200$ shot of ____Blue, I can’t remember. The partys on, the musics on, but wheres my party girl? Shes on the swings, shes on the park, writing songs out in the dark. Keeping moments, just like this forever in her journal (it’ll leave a mark).
The questions of a small, simple event. All my friends who really care, and I’ll show you how they meant. How they meant to make me fine, while they go pour their wine. At my party, not wanted, saying how great I was (I know I’m not). One day, I’ll throw a party, my freinds who care dont show up. I’ll skate around, with my music, and fall without a sound.

Simple Guys don’t just write

The simple guys, the ones I talk to on the phone. I care and want to be you but all I got were flat tones. The summer I felt alive, I felt I was truly happy and not absent, I loved the group and not the boys, but found out they did not. Those boys did not love boys, and a boy-friend loved a boy. They cast him out, and cut the line and went back like everything was fine. I no longer loved this group, I no longer loved these boys, simple guys they don’t just write, but they fight.