Only a week, and I'm falling through rooftops for you,
like a meteorite on its way into the suburbs,
ready to change the lives of two teens, who discover such a bright reality,
positivity and trust, among the other greats, avoiding what the other hates.
I'm unsure of the thoughts behind those beautiful brown eyes, but I'd like to explore what your imagination can conjure up if you tried.
Freedom. Truth. Humor.

you need to earn respect,
who said i owed you anything, i didn't choose to be here,
who said i cared what you think,
you cant expect me to be wrong every time.
who the **** are you
why are you so against everything i do,
am i not allowed to succeed,
in life, or my own values? only yours.
what the **** is freedom.
why cant i just live my life,
i love you but why
all these people
no trust here
you ****** this up.
am i supposed to sweep up the shattered dreams and cracked memories.
you just stand above, holding me down, expecting me to push harder,
guilt weighs more than you can accept- doesn't it?
wheres the constructive attitude you taught me to have.
what the ****.
selling knives, learning my own lessons, handling my own problems
are you serious
you say you're the adult, act like one.
let me be me.
*******.
i need to earn respect?
why
who made that rule, you?
i have to do what you say?
you and what ******* army...
why am i being so defiant
maybe i don't want to be like you
maybe i'm afraid of becoming my biggest problem,
my life was so easy before you tried to step in and give it a reason to move
i can trip and make a reason in half a ******* thought
before you can see where you're even falling,
how far have you fallen before you lost hope?
who pushed you
was it your father? how ironic...
i shouldn't laugh at how ****** up that is
but why does anything matter these days
i cant angry when i need to be
i just end up looking like an ***
am i broken, i asked for help...
why cant you help? you ****.

On that half acre of swamp,
there sits rotting wood, countless species of pests and bothers
history of love, hate, pain, and growth,
there sits a home, a house, a building, full to the brim,
with memories? Impulsive decisions?
Just a lot of "stuff"...

Right off the path the lawn sits untouched,
mossy patches, clovers and thatch, weeds and flowers,
ever since i was little they've been there,
ever since i was little Iv'e had such luck,

What happens when they sell that property, does the stuff go to waste?
That "stuff" was born of waste and now when i need luck the most, winters frost sinks those clovers much like the "stuff" in the ditch down the road,
But does my luck sink as well? Or will it grow and bloom next spring into something greater?

Sitting by the fire, here we think,
Life is on the brink but all we have is us,
So why worry about wars,
when you can get look up at the stars at 1 am
teach your peer about holes in our reality,
gossip of current rumors, future tropes,
past trips and falls, runs and crawls.
Why fall when you can jump?

Reading words we don't understand, won't understand,
walking down halls in every state of mind,
anxious thoughts for fear of these expected surprises,
like standing together in the rain to the very last minute only to get scolded when we get home, but

it was worth every second of forbidden time, time taken from the future,
hypnotic relaxation, that chewy feeling as she passes but wont look knowing exactly what's occurring.

If we measured time in laughs, where jokes were all we had,
Would the eldest tell jokes to all her sisters?
Or would the humor provided by life be enough for them to keep up?
Would she hoard her giggles, smirks, and snickers,
for fear of losing track, having to go back, over dead jokes and those older than herself?

Let's find out.

Why do I hide behind these lies?
Is it the fear of losing solace?
And when I look up at these skies,
the rain keeps falling,
         down the gutters,
                    my heart flutters,
                                my mouth stutters,
We both know hurricanes won't mix,
we tried all the tricks,
even looked for how each clock ticks,
after years and years,
           tears and tears,
                      fighting fears,
                                peers will leer,
But my brain rains these thoughts,
wood from shipwrecked hulls will rot,
and I just sunk the whole lot,
after you just ran them across the rocks,
are they for naught?
            did we ever have a shot,
                       or stand a chance.
                                  even if the sands,
of time fill these wounds,
and we split to different lands,
try different goods, see different hoods,
new bads, new goods, I don't know if I should.
                           Surprise! This flood has no bad blood.  
                                         But the currents are strong as ever,
                                     So cold they'll cause a fever,
       but so hot she'll make you believe her.
            These temps amp up intensity,
   ripping the leaves from the trees...
                             cars from the roads,
                           tongues from the toads,
                                     toads from the ponds,
                             ponds filled with more debris.
                             tears fill my mind, can't even see.
                                 Storms so mad they can't even flee,
                                                           ­                                 
                                                    each-other.
­
Are they too intense to even bother?
       Will they rip apart from the purest pressure?
              Or combine for a superstorm of pleasure?
       Even the bright sky could see that treasure,
And yes we felt light as feathers,
       But when we are long together,
              The people can feel the weight of such pain,
       and we'll both continue to rain, such a shame.
And an obvious candles flames still burn,
       causing me to toss and turn,
            So from you, I wish to learn but only burn...