6d
Drivers seat. **** stereo. Karl has the aux Windows down.
You’re used to it
So the scene is yours.
It’s all snap backs and ear gauges
All ripped jeans and graphic T’s
All reggie **** and stolen liquor.
No one here wants to be innocent.
Rebel against anything.
Cover your scars kid.
Maina’s got the needle. Get to it.
I got jumped on Brewery Ave.
Sammie said I did good.
I was not well.
I was not on the straight and narrow.
I was bent.
I was getting high in Whetstone.
I was drinking moonshine.
I was throwing up
I was being thrown against the wall
I was burning holes in Jeremiah’s carpet
I was watching him take the blame.
And we never talked about it.
He overdosed last Winter.
That’s all gone.
I don’t need to sleep on the floor anymore.
The folds of my flannel jacket never told a story.
It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry for that.
That’s all one scene.
Now yours. Just yours.
I’m sorry it’s not pretty,
The constant flailing slender arms.
You were screaming, everyone was.
You won’t come back from this the same.
No one will. No one wants to.
Life will just be this
You accept it. You grow out your hair.
Home, James.
You can’t be happy here anymore.
You know what it’s like to yearn.
To stare beyond the ceiling
Looking for a feeling beneath your skin
You know it. You lived it.
Now you take the good parts
You bend them. Break them. Dig your claws into them.
Cover yourself in them
And you are still so terribly in love
I’m sorry for that.
It’s not a good scene.
I really shouldn’t talk about you like this.
Back to me.
I wake up.
I lift heavy weights.
I think about my beard.
I drink heavily.
I take long walks.
God no. Let’s not talk about that.
Another scene. Another morning .
Cut the hotel room.
Cut the Courthouse,
The tears in your eyes,
The bad tattoos,
The little white cross on Charleston Road,
Streaking by the police station,
That one cigarette specifically.
It doesn’t matter
In the next
there you are.
You are what you always are
And you are covered in white light.
Smiling in a some terrifying way
That makes me feel desperate and afraid.
While I think of saying something ugly.
You’re used to it
So the scene is yours.
It’s all snap backs and ear gauges
All ripped jeans and graphic T’s
All reggie **** and stolen liquor.
No one here wants to be innocent.
Rebel against anything.
Cover your scars kid.
Maina’s got the needle. Get to it.
I got jumped on Brewery Ave.
Sammie said I did good.
I was not well.
I was not on the straight and narrow.
I was bent.
I was getting high in Whetstone.
I was drinking moonshine.
I was throwing up
I was being thrown against the wall
I was burning holes in Jeremiah’s carpet
I was watching him take the blame.
And we never talked about it.
He overdosed last Winter.
That’s all gone.
I don’t need to sleep on the floor anymore.
The folds of my flannel jacket never told a story.
It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry for that.
That’s all one scene.
Now yours. Just yours.
I’m sorry it’s not pretty,
The constant flailing slender arms.
You were screaming, everyone was.
You won’t come back from this the same.
No one will. No one wants to.
Life will just be this
You accept it. You grow out your hair.
Home, James.
You can’t be happy here anymore.
You know what it’s like to yearn.
To stare beyond the ceiling
Looking for a feeling beneath your skin
You know it. You lived it.
Now you take the good parts
You bend them. Break them. Dig your claws into them.
Cover yourself in them
And you are still so terribly in love
I’m sorry for that.
It’s not a good scene.
I really shouldn’t talk about you like this.
Back to me.
I wake up.
I lift heavy weights.
I think about my beard.
I drink heavily.
I take long walks.
God no. Let’s not talk about that.
Another scene. Another morning .
Cut the hotel room.
Cut the Courthouse,
The tears in your eyes,
The bad tattoos,
The little white cross on Charleston Road,
Streaking by the police station,
That one cigarette specifically.
It doesn’t matter
In the next
there you are.
You are what you always are
And you are covered in white light.
Smiling in a some terrifying way
That makes me feel desperate and afraid.
While I think of saying something ugly.
