Saturday 29**
His house.
Filled not only with the people that I love
but all the people that I despise the most
The snap backs, the Coors, the drunken barbies
I chug the ***** and laugh at their stupidity
Cigarette number 1.2&3 at once
on the porch
and she gets there
pulls out her white powder
her lines in the kitchen
He yells, he wants to fight her
I don't want to stop him but I do
Is it terrible to think she'd be better off dead?
The smell of lust consumes me
as the air of a lost love surrounds me
He pulls me in
kissing him on drunken nights seems to become a trend
The friend that I can't lust for calls for me
he needs me
but I can't be there
Eventually I tear myself away
I curl up with the friend again
Giving him hope
in an impossible daydream