I impatiently waited tables
trying to earn enough money
to keep my apartment
filled with cheap beer
and expensive drugs.

There wasn’t much else to do
in that stuffy little town
with one intersection.
The air was fine
as long as you didn’t breathe.

I watched my friends and neighbors
watch me from a close distance,
separated by a parking lot
and an eternity of sins
that no one wanted to talk about.

When I was 18,
I kissed a boy
and told him we were going
to get married some day.
He laughed at me.

I picked out a tux anyway.
It was white. I wanted to wear white.

She's wearing my jeans,
Whilst I wear her hands on my neck.
18, and emotionally drunk.
Is it cheesy to say I don't want this night to end?

18
What a strange age

Expected to grow up
Expected to change

But there is a problem
With what they request,
I’m not quite done growing
And I’m still quite a mess

They tell me I’m ready
That I have to move on

Won’t somebody tell me
Where my childhood’s gone?

What are these taxes?
Why must I move out?
If I haven’t the money,
Shall I sleep on the ground?

Nobody told me
How to accept
The loss of my childhood
As a normal event

It may not have been nice
And it may not have been good
And I might have been through stuff
That no child should

But I am not ready
To give it all up
To trade for my hours,
Everyday at a job

I don’t know how to fight it
I’m not sure I can

But at least I am finding
The person I am

At 18 I’m growing
And I’ll keep in my hand
That of another me,
The one of my Past

I watch her.

I watch her,
as the night drapes over her window,
as the stars tangle in her hair,

I watch her,
as the chiseled imperfection
of the moon stirs her inky musings,

I watch her ,
in the uncertain glow of the dying candle,
in the torrent of tattered thoughts,

I watch her,
watching me through the silver-smeared glass,
through the pits of colourless brown,


                                      I watch her as                           
                                   ­            she slowly traces the silence,
                                                        ­           silencing the traces of him.

So scared
With unfounded fears
Filling me
I don't want to **** myself
So win back myself
My future for my greed
Focus full force
I need all 18 holes
On this golf course

I know you think
I’m counting down the days
But I’m just trying to make
The days count.

People tell me
45 is so young,
Why would I want to believe
I’ll be gone by then?

I say
It has taken me 18 years
To get where I am.

I’m afraid
Of what will happen
After 18 more.

Vendredi 18, tu es venue à l'école avec une attitude différente.
Tu es en train de te perdre et d'oublier ton aptitude affriolante.
Tu es tombé d'une altitude qui était autrefois inspirante.
Tu l'as fait quasiment indifférente,
que tu nous as convaincu que ce n'est qu'une exception intermittente,
que ce n'est qu'une soudaine changement d'humeur déprimante.

Friday 18th, you came to school with a different attitude.
You were getting lost, forgetting what you are made of, forgetting your aptitude.
You have fallen from what once was an inspiring altitude.
You did it so calmly, so indifferently, that you have convinced us that it was just a temporary phase.
Just a passing malaise.

My wildest fantasy is to cut my tongue out
Just to feel the pleasure that pain gives
And watch as my blood pour out of my mouth
As it runs down my neck and slips onto my tank-top to paint a perfect portrait

On regular days I wished
To lose a leg or two
Maybe break a few bones, throw in some toes
Just to see how I would look

Other days I wanted to go MIA
Leaving only bloodstains on my silk sheets
With an ax and suicide note, of course, to throw the Cops off
Just to write about it in my dairy

On sad days I wished I was robbed
Or attacked by a good looking stranger
Hit by a car, cow or something
Just to be notice

It's usually fun to have conversations with dead bodies
They listen well
It's even more fun turning them into antique furniture
Especially the teeth it gives zing to the ring

People say I’m crazy
Do you think I’m crazy?
Hehe…
No, I’m not

I’m a Sociopath there’s a difference!