Ah,
sweet summer
the smell of beer, margaritas, and that fresh EL air.
Baseball mits and
half-off deals at our favorite Wednesday joints.
But I'm not there.
You won't be either.
None of us will.
Detroit is my new home, Flint is your old.
Places like Ferndale and who knows where is the new Summer destination in your guys' hearts.
I miss home.
I really really do.
New adventures await,
but can we pretend they don't?

Even as I walk past,
Comerica stands
grass illuminates like a lamp post on a winter night.
Tigers season, baby
Dad and I do our yearly tradition.
The smell of the park is second to none.
But not this year.
Dad ain't doin so well.
His knee ain't up for it.
Love you, old man.
Maybe, just maybe, the old Tigs
will surprise us and make the playoffs
and then
maybe, just maybe,
we can go to a game
and let that tradition ride on.

My
Insecurities
knowing their emptiness
drive the conversation.
Always pushing for one more
drunken night.
One more night to fake love.
One more night to let jealousy
envelop only
one of us.

Here I sit
not knowing what to write
or how to do this.
A thousand tired emotions fatiguing
my mind while burning my heart.
     Exhaustion from life has crippled me at 21
Love.
All I can think about.
Love

Bombs blowing in the air,
ruins the moisture for my hair,
let dying dogs lie I always say,
as long as they don't get in my way.
Let those slum children die,
so I can let out an excited cry,
when my soccer team doesn't let a goal go by.
We should clean and fix this place,
I will say when I visit the disgrace,
how can a country be so displaced,
how did it become such a waste?
But when I get home,
I forget what I saw,
as I have no time to waste,
with society's flaw.