I start
with one or two
just for the rush.
Pop another three
for the hell of it.
Sneak four more
to cloud my mind
as an excuse for
what
         I've
                done.
But justice as they say;
is swift.
And just like that
I'm gone.
My life taken
by the sweet,
powdered taste
of half inched sized pills
only conducted
because of the justice
my thoughts said the world
needed.

Three months of absolute fun
is what every kid looks forward to.
living memories under the sun
always having something to do

But summer comes with its disanvantages
as it swoops up your friends into voyages,
leaving you with nothing to do,
and all your friends are gone too.

But there is always one friend
who is always available
able to free you from the shackles
that bind you to your home.

The feeling I get as I rush outside,
the breeze I feel rubbing against my skin,
the smell of fresh air rushing up my nostrils,
the bright summer rays bouncing off me.

That feeling I get once I'm outside
is a true summer feeling.
no matter the season, if you feel what I feel
as you rush outside, that is a summer feeling .

I always wish
That I knew
That the last day
Was the last day.

So I could've hugged you
Just a little tighter

Kissed you a little harder

Said I loved you a little more

And held on just a little longer.

It is 7.30 and I am still thinking about the way our hands slotted together like days of the week, normalcy perspiring in the air behind us.
It is 7.31 and I am still thinking about your cheekbones, collarbones, hipbones. I am still thinking about your bones. You haven't returned my phone calls in a week.
It is 7.32 and I am still thinking about forest fires.
It is 7.33 and I am still thinking about clocks ticking and how it's kind of funny how we are always counting the days we have left, instead of the days we have.
It is 7.34 and I am still thinking about how my apologies never really cut it.
It is 7.35 and I am sorry.
It is 7.36 and I wonder how hard it is to tie a noose.
It is 7.37 and I am still thinking about the normal length of a pause when you're telling someone you love them, too.
It is 7.38 and I love you, too.
It is 7.39 and I am still trying not to think about how loud the doorbell echoes in the entrance hall now.
It is 7.40 and I am still thinking about the absence of stairways.
It is 7.41 and I am still thinking about hunger pains and alleyways and the warmth of your hand on my spine.
It is 7.42 and there are some things you can't say to other people but holy ****, I miss you.
It is 7.43 and I'm sorry again.
It is 7.44 and I am still thinking about short hands on clocks.
It is 7.45 and I am still imagining footfalls landing heavy on the carpet outside my bedroom and trying not to hope they're yours.
It is 7.46 and I hope they're yours.
It is 7.47 and I am still thinking about the glass in my ribcage digging in harder than your fingernails ever could.
It is 7.48 and I am still thinking about the way our hands slotted together.
It is 7.49 and I'm sorry again.