You don't think about death until
The first classmate from high school dies
Of a ******* stupid cause
Lung infection turned collapsed lung
Turned septic shock turned morgue
Since when do you have to worry about that
At twenty one

Drugstore trips for constant drips
we pull up to your parents driveway
and hesitate to leave;
Idle cars for idle minds
on where I'll be sleeping in a year.

Music drowning out the int rusivethoughts
He brings me my medicine with an open hand
To take it or n ot; to feel better or not
Shove it down my throat with a smile
*** I'll feel better in a while,
I'll be better
Maybe later
**

Monday to Friday nine to five
Twelve fifty an hour plus commission
Monday to Friday nine to five
Twelve fifty an hour plus commission
Monday to Friday nine to five
Twelve fifty an hour plus commission
Utter under your breathe
It'll only make the mundane worse

Would you be proud of me
Or have I forsaken you;
Abandoning the family I promised to save;
Am I selfish? To want better?
To have better in my hands and leave them to rot;
Is this something I brought upon myself?
Did I cause them to curdle and rot?
Am I the only sane one around or maybe I'm just sour milk as well.
Way past overdue, in a crowded fridge
God forgot me like the rest of them.

Setting:
One bedroom apartment, run down
Hasn't been cleaned for months
Leaning back on a three legged couch
Chain smoking at 7PM with the sun setting
Through the black out curtains pinned to the wall
With some edgy alt-pop ******* on shuffle.
Dagger in hand questioning what is real and what is fake.
What makes a person? Their name? Their past, their presence?
Who will I be known as when I pass
Will they mourn the sulking writer who drank and smoked her life away?
Will they lay to rest the prepubescent drama queen and avid book enthusiast?
Or will they bury the dreams of this girl possibly pulling herself together to make something great.

The one bedroom apartment;
where your drinking habits only scare your cat.