I don't know why it's been hitting me so hard these past few days.
Maybe it's the amount of time I've been spending with you,
or the realisation of how little time I have left to spend with you.

You keep telling me I'll survive and I know I will.
It's just that I don't want to.
And I hate that I have to.

saudad (n)-- 1. knowing that
coffee and cigarettes
will never smell
quite as good as they
did on you

2. hearing your name over and
over again, then suddenly,
not at all, because even i am
too scared to whisper it
to the dark

3. watching you fade before
you're even gone; if you ever come
back home, you won't be the man
you were one year ago.

And what a slap in the face it is
to keep my father's old driver's license
tucked nicely into my cigarette pouch.
Because every son wants to slap his father's face
and also to be just like him.

When the hard cider is all gone
and the pabst is all stale
and the ***** makes you gag
and the drug testing doesn't let you smoke ****
what do you do?
You have a ******* good time
with some great people
and you pack bowls for them
and roll joints for them
and hate the frat boys with them.

You laugh at the funny jokes
and duck call at the bad ones.
You smoke too many cigarettes
and give away your only lighter.

You fall asleep with one of them in your arms.
But don't worry, next weekend it will be someone else.
This time it was a tenacious blonde who's taking you to prom.
Next week it might be the lovely red head who wears his heart on his sleave
or it may be the funny Jewish kid who plays beer pong by himself.
Maybe it'll be the girl who shows up when all the ***** is gone
and sits next to you and lets you hold her close.
But never by yourself,
they're all to lovely to let that happen.

A few days from then you'll go on a walk and bring a few cigarettes and a book
but the cigarettes remind you of them and the book reminds you of her
so you leave Leaves of Grass in the grass and smoke the cigarettes
thinking of the Before.
thinking of the Then.
Not worrying about the Now
and forgetting the When.

You sleep like a baby,
in the sense that you wake up every few hours and struggle to fall asleep without your mother's breathing to sing a lullaby.
She's outside,
falling in to old habits,
throwing two years into a bottle and downing it.
She's smoking her last cigarette so she sneaks into your room careful not to wake your seemingly sleeping Self and digs in your backpack until she finds your cigarettes.

In the morning she will magically have those two years back
and she will have forgotten those cigarettes she took from you.

But you'll throw her empty bottles away before your sister can find them and Understand.
And she won't lend you that twenty bucks she said she would because she spent it on two bottles of Jägermeister.

And the girl who lives down the street knows none of this because to her it's not real.
She only knows that your mother has a two year NA chip
and she only knows that you used to Hate yourself.
She knows that you like her
and she thinks she likes you.
And she lets you put your arm around her
and she snaps at Satan with you.

And you love the lovely red head and you hope he reads this
and is happy  because he is in one of your ramblings.
just as your heart smiles
when you find yourself in one of his.
however more poetic and sensitive and lovely they are.

Press your lips together
and press them on mine.
Feel my tongue on yours
and close your eyes.
See my face
imprinted on the back of your eyelids.
Kiss me long
and kiss me deeply.
Don't dare to pull away;
not yet.
Let's stay here,
you and me,
and etch our names into a tree.
Let us lay in the grass
and touch our feet with our feet.
Let us stay in this place
until the moon rises.

Place your hand
on the small of my back
and feel my hand
on the small of your back
while my other touches your face.
Let us be swept away
by the love in this place.
Let our hips come together
as the sun comes to horizon.
******* neck
and I'll bite yours.
Worry not about the marks,
we will grow to love them.
Run your hand through my hair
while mine holds your face on mine.

Let us not separate.
Let us not evaporate.
Let us not leave this place.

Being as the clouds
is a marvelous way to be.

/~~\
fakest of the fakes.
tell me a story.
about reality
and unreality.
\~~/

The star doesn't shine
(no candle is inside)
The wind doesn't blow
(no switch has been flipped)
The words mean nothing
(no book has been opened)
The bed isn't made
(no person slept there)
The heart doesn't long
(no heart beats)
The phone doesn't ring
(no one questions)