After junior high,
I met this guy
Who only seen stars and dollar signs
He kept his clothes clean, his shoes white
and everyday invited me to get high
Some days I envied his independence
Though I came to find he was friendless
And his smokey afternoons were spent alone in
his room at home
exhaled out of windows.
Some days he told me things that others would often doubt
But when I agreed, he'd shut me out
I didn't mind it much.
He didn't know how to love.
That subject foreign to speak of
a silent agreement between us.
The dollar signs and stars crowd his heart
I don't blame him at all.
We are the same with our roaming souls and cloudy brains
not from the smoke but from becoming insane.
Insane in the most unique way