i’m falling out of place again &
i’m sorry we haven’t spoken in weeks
i really liked that boy i did
& i thought i could have a friend again.
i don’t know.

i’ve been working all week but when
is that an excuse when you’re eighteen?
sometimes i feel i should be twenty-three
barely making ends meat
i want to go to parties i shouldn’t
be at and drink until my heart’s content
and my liver protests
i want to dance all night long under
flickering black light pitch night
(take a photograph through
****** filter lens)
in clothes i’ve never worn before
where i can feel your hands through my
shirt without taking any of it off
show off
i like the smoke around me but never
inside & i think i’ve done enough tonight.
i’m tired.
please come inside.