snorting burned toast too late in the day to call it a complete and nutritious breakfast
(i have my heroes but i also know that i will never be a hero to someone like me)
i'm not going to make it that far.
(call me defeatist but i guess you're right)
that's what i haven't been saying is that i'm not making plans for the fall or the spring or the rest of my life because i'm afraid or maybe convinced that i'm not going to make it that far
because before the snow covers the lawn in quiet white layers i will be sprinkled over top of the grass in the form of a grayish powder and misplaced hymns
(i doubt that all of us were born to live)
nosedive into a sandwich smothered in over-sweetened jelly regrets
and forget about the haunting sweat that you can't wash off of the back of your neck
(the nice thing about dying young is that you'll have the rest of your life to forget me)
headfirst slam into the midnight sky i cracked my skull open on the moon
the milky way poured out from behind my eyes and galaxies came up out of my throat
bits and pieces of me have died here and there along the way like ripped out pieces of that hateful lawn
(the reason i want to be forgotten is because i was never worth remembering)
but really it's just that death and darkness are such nice peaceful calm and reasonable topics to discuss at length.