i never expected myself to be at the point
where i would chew on dead flowers
to numb the pain even though
i have no ******* idea where the pain
comes from.
i don't know if it's because you're
a nine and a half hour drive away
and you're not
around to tell me that i look
**** in a shirt that's 3 sizes too big for me
and a pen in my mouth
when i'm trying to write something
romantic but then end up writing
about packing a bowl with 2
older guys in the back of a '79
ram.
my life revolves
around coffee and twisted dreams
that i don't want to wake up from
and double plays that end innings
and cigarettes and boys with tattoos
and waist-length hair and
it could be because those are the only
things in my life
that have ever been permanent.

*-z. vega