I have a phone call tomorrow
To talk about my depression
They'll ask me questions
With clinical precision
While I'm just trying
Not to throw my phone
I'll do my best
But its terrifying
It'll be one less hour of silence
Sixty minutes closer to the void
I'm hoping, like ****, they can
Fix me up
I want to start living again

I sip my coffee
I keep looking up
When you're looking away
Over the rim of my cup

I know, outside of here
We're strangers, you told me
But I guess, I just enjoy
My illusions

I know you're not important
Nothing really is
But I still think you're beautiful
That much, I gotta admit

I finish my coffee
I'm leaving, sneaking one last look your way
I guess I'm done hurting myself for now
I'll see you, some, other day

I love, my boots
They are my freedom
Jet black, fit like a glove
Bulletproof
I like their security
Knowing, any day
I can put them on
And go
If I walked, till they wore out
I'd be worlds away from here
In my boots, I could
Kick all my bullies, to the floor
And walk away, comfortably
Freedom
Security
Independence
Yes, I love my boots

Hook up culture
Cheap cider
He has a car
That's the decider
A year or less
Down the line
You're nine months along
He's doing time
But you tell yourself
We're doing fine
Now you're wishing
You'd finished school
Instead of smoking
And acting 'cool'
Read this, think on it well
You have, one life, one story
Make it one, you want to tell

A cigarette with a stranger
A just missed bus
The wrong number texted
A Facebook comment thread
This is modern romance
Who said romance is dead?

I would take, a damaged love
Over this endless solitude
A passion, it burns to touch
Rather than a silent room
I would take, and would return
With a fierceness
With fire's burn
A violent delight
Like Shakespeare's fire and powder
Which as they kiss, consume
Rather than my comfortable, silent
Tomb

I saw the long green grass, mown down
It fell, lifeless and dead
And I wished, how I wished
I were the grass, instead
The grass has never, hurt a man
Or made a person cry
I have done both these things, and more
It is I who should die