It's there
We looked at each other
We both know what's gonna happen


THE LAST PIECE OF CHICKEN IN THE BUCKET

Our hands swiftly moved
Each reaching out like it's gonna disappear
Both of us dying to get it first
We even fought for it
Slapping the other hand

Alas
You got it
Mocking me even
I simply sighed and laughed
Telling you
"You clean up this mess."
You making that face
And me sticking out my tongue

We met each other for the first time
We both fell at first sight
But that was it
Because that was where we  met our beginning
And our end

Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,
Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
Haunts me night and day.

I have got this  idea,
a stupid wish, a nonsensical desire
of being in a car accident.
Hear me, I want you to.

I prefer to be in the backseat,
seat belt on, and a frequent mannerism
of looking down, in front
on the driver's dashboard. I do that,
I always want to know the speed
and how fast the others outside this space
of metal and cushion. I don't want to be the driver,
knowing myself, I would not get myself into one.
I am a safe *****, that is all.
Then, here goes nothing -
I want the car to crash. I still haven't made my mind
on where or what are we going to crash.
Maybe a wall. Maybe another car. Maybe a post.
I want it to be something solid, but not alive.
Trees are the exceptions. I want the car
to kiss that solid thing, head on.

I don't want the pain that may come along,
I don't want to call it a near death experience,
I want that instant where -
everything seems unreal
or too real my head would not be able to
understand. I want that portion of time
where I decide do I close my eyes or not,
that moment that I will have my life question itself.
And I don't wish death I don't wish to live, either.
Just that moment, where I could think
how instantaneous life can be.
I want that tick of the clock
the clashing of realities and dimensions..

I want that moment,
I need to feel that moment of being just between death and life
where everything doesn't matter anymore, but I still know
they exist.

I have this stupid idea,
nothing so important, nothing so surreal
but to wish this
is the demand I am willing
to pursue.

Life can be taken at any moment now
I pray for those who have been taken
And I pray for those who have yet to end their fate
But to my loved ones
I say this to you
When I die
Be prepared for a change
There won't be anyone to laugh with
Anyone to be angry about
Anyone to be sad about
Anyone to make you smile
And I dare say
I love you
and  Thank you
I've had so many memories with you
I've made so many disappointments
I've had the best time I could ever hope for
I've lived with an honor to meet you
And through this,
I'll say my

**Goodbye.

School is a bore
I wish there was more
The people around me
Feels like a wide open sea
It's hard to swim out there
With so much to bear
I simply wish it was easy
Instead I feel kinda queasy
Sometimes it's fun
But I still want to run
To my sweet escape
Even with my expression of gape

The sloppy rain slips and slides down the fogged-up windows,
and this lets me know that I am not as small as I think I am.
In a city of three million plus, I feel like the soul of a nation,
even though I'm just a twenty-one year-old piece of plastic, drinking a hipster beer.

The waitress has frizzy hair and oily skin.
She's holding in late-night infomercials and missed ballet recitals, behind her words.
She looks at my luggage and asks where I came from or where I'm going,
and I tell her that the fun thing is that I have no idea where I'm going --
and that I still haven't decided where I've came from.

This city allows new-found anonymity, and I want that to be my cause.
With each passing glance, I know they don't see me, and, to me, that's the slumber-kissed throat-slit I've always dreamt of...

...the streets play music that I only hear -- and I know that's not fair, but I don't care.

And the homeless represent the bowels of the city.
And the businessmen are the ghost-filled engine.
And the middle class is the defense-mechanism I always wanted for Christmas.
And I am the empty delusion, desperately seeking a new pollution.

One girl, one boy.
Totally different,
But very alike.
They find eachother.
They need eachother.
But not for love.
At least, not yet.

She feels guilty,
She flaked out.

He's ******.
But he'll accept it.

They'll figure it out.
Together.

I hope I live long enough to see my dreams transform into reality.
I hope I live long enough to feel my tomorrow's welcome me.
I hope I live long enough to know what love, family, and friendship really mean.
I hope I live long enough to stand in a place where the air will whisper that I am finally free.

I hope I live long enough.