the rumble of coming months
darkness greedy for light
the last dying flames
slip slowly down the horizon
Our winter is blowing
down from northern time
anothers summer just beginning
while we start closing down

Black coffee to ring in Monday morning
Fingertips leaving his imprint on my collarbone
Steam to erase the last traces of my guilty pleasures
Ashes on my skin from her cigarettes
Words left by their sword-like tongues
Sunrises searing holes in my retinas
Tar below our bare feet
Memories branded in my thoughts
Scalding memories, scalding memories

That's how far I made it today.
I have survived 18 years and now I'm considered an adult.
But that doesn't matter.
Age doesn't determine maturity.
Neither do cigarettes, ****, or gambling.
I don't exactly know what determines maturity.
But what I do know is that growing up is over rated.
Almost like trying to be well liked or trying to impress my father.
Just another thing to add to the basket of **** I no longer give a **** about.

sounds to make you know
so early a strength blowing
this side of October
come real winter  
Lovers of the wind
we will be snuggled in heaven

Everywhere you go
There for all with beating hearts
Choose one and progress.