What can you say
About kids these days
'Cept they ain't got no respect

Walking around
Like a bunch of clowns
Hey punks pull up your pants

I don't really care
To see your underwear
Or any skid marks running up the back

Put on a belt
And if nothing else
It'll hold in all that lazy fat

And what you call music
I'm going to lose it
If I hear any more of that crap

Back in the day
We had people who sang
That didn't sound like a half strangled cat

And the way you cover your skin
With ink from the pen
In what you think are cool tattoos

I wonder what they'll look like
Later in life
When all that skin is hanging loose

All those piercings you've got hanging
Some even ****** dangling
Pretty much match the hole in your head

If you took them out kiddie
I bet the wind through you would whistle Dixie
That's pretty much it "Nuff Said"

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
Dry bones of Moses painted on my button down shirt screaming,
“to be or not to be” is not an English word.
In the daze of the thoughts of Neurology, I saw a man kick a bucket full of Starbucks giftcards down the avenue street. He screamed in pain as he watched the bucket tumble and roll down the street, blessing every Bohemian with a slight cold.

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
I dreamt about a land before man where the Oxygen that sprang from the pores of flowers
sang a sweet death. Where dishwashers are saints, for afterall, man will not be if not for food.
Where books are written not to be read, but for the sake of Orange trees that will grow in the future.
I once wore a poker face to a funeral and laughed at the man in the casket because the souls he had underneath him were two left feet.

*We all once had naked pictures of God on our nightstands but lost it after Einstein  
Lost the fried chicken war of 1812 to Isaac Newton.

This boy that you've never particularly given a second thought, suddenly engulfs your thoughts. Always friends but never anything more. Sure, he was always cute and funny but it was never the right time or he was with her or you were with him. Now both of you have grown; his long shaggy hair turned into a short, perfectly-tousled mess and you, now moved away with a few broken hearts along the way.*

Here you sit in a room full of friends, yet his hands are the only ones that yours long to be held in.
10 minutes
his arm finds it's way around your hips, in-between couch pillows and small talk.
it's all right, nobody's watching. part of you doesn't want them to. a secret shared by body language, a secret hanging in the air between the two of you.
6 minutes
excitement is building, tension in the air growing heavier with each anticipated sideways glance.
your hand slowly inches across your body, blindly stumbling onto his. finally
2 minutes
your mind is racing with impossible thoughts as your fingers intertwine, still hidden,
a secret to be carried over to the new year.
:15
your muscles tighten, stomach fluttering
:11
new beginnings and second chances, spontaneity right?
:06
his arm pulls you closer, tighter.
:04
your body is overwhelmed with shivers and anxiety
:00
the television is flashing images of couples with their lips meeting, midnight kisses.
he turns to you and thats' it. emotionally, you're a goner.
he leans forward and he hugs you. and that's it. and you're okay with that.