it's three in the morning,
we don't call it that
we call it,
"not being lonely."
we have this funny
little way of
calling things a prettier name to make them seem better

just so you know.
I had to walk home alone
last night, drunk off of some dumb *** and coke and high
from hitting this Girl's bubbler and blowing the smoke through her window.

My body tensed up as I happened upon it.
They call it the **** tunnel
so it already absolutely did not
have a pretty name.
The bird flying around in my chest probably would have been
just as manic
if it was just the **** tunnel I was passing through
and not
where the fight took place.

I took that pride back.
I went and yanked it out of the ground it was rotting in, when I walked through and allowed myself to feel sad.
Now, it's not some tunnel where **** is implied because of its countenance.
It's not even a place where we once fought, anymore.
no
I've scared that all away
and now all I have is the memory of you sitting there on the
con
crete
ground.