can see it now in a stuffy auditorium
half of those students don’t give a ****
it’s hotter than a crematorium
and everyone just wants to go out to lunch

i can see her now - the principal’s crying
she can hardly get the words out
nervous laughter and everyone’s trying
whatever it is, to figure it out

i can see me too, when she breaks the news
“i regret to inform you” but i already knew
grim curiosity, we’re all wondering who
and the world liquifies when she says it’s you

silence, something switches, day to night
last night you were found dead, abandoned
and i’m saying no god, it can’t be right
cause he would have called me beforehand

it shines like the city
and it breaks like the bridge
and we should be drunk
but this is a school trip
they’d find exhaust in my lungs
if they did my autopsy
i’m soaking up in puddles
wanna breathe gasoline

the heat is too sweaty
and the people don’t smile
and it’s not LA
But let’s stay for a while
and you hate LA
it’s all concrete and palm trees
so let’s go get burgers
let’s go get ice cream

glitter like winners
and it’s sticky out here
and somewhere it’s winter
but somewheres never here
this station’ all yellow
am i in a movie?
this is living, worth filming
i’m finally breathing

scream off the balcony
up 46 floors
suburbs in the sky
wanna break down the door
live like real people
leave our shoes on the floor
watching the sunrise
and still wanting more

in the afternoon we chew our pills,
sweating the backs of knees, armpits,
blessed the skittering of grass on down-brushed
shins.
pulsing behind our eyes, weeping the veins,
shuddering the voltaic nerves. god,
the excedrin.

The night is bitter
The stars had lost their glitter
It's getting colder
And suddenly you're older
Then you get this feeling
That you might be bleeding
But apparently you're not
You're skin had begun to rot
A new skin emerged
Yet  you're not prepared
Which one is best ?the new or the other
Is there another?
The sky is Gray
The sun had lost its rays
You want to walk
Cause there's not much to talk
It's getting calmer
There's not much of drama
The kids are sleeping
They must be dreaming
It might be a nightmare
With a witch surrounded by flare
The adults are older
They are getting colder
They want to be dreaming
Even if they weren't sleeping
Their heads are thicker
Their souls are bitter
They lost their glitter
Who's fault is this ?
Fate it must be it
But destiny is glory
Each one has its  own story
Everything is ending
Life and its blessing
God is merciful
We got be thankful
Thanking him for life ،for the days and Nights
Even when it's gloomy
It got such beauty
Even to the blind
Faith can be their eyes

it's highschool recess and my best friend and i watch the seventh-graders
from our perch as 'older boys' with minimum-wage jobs and harder homework. one is handing around a gleaming can of monster energy like the blood of christ himself and everyone wants some. they treat the factory-issue can with such tender care, flushed fingertips on cold metal.

"why are they so excited about a monster?" i ask.

("what does it taste like?" a wide-eyed friend's younger brother asks.)

"because it's novel. it's their first taste of freedom." my friend says, and
then suddenly i remember all the times we've done the same with our friends.  

first, in an airport because me and my shaking hands couldn't finish it ourselves. outside school, warm from the flesh of someone's school bag all day. under the table and the teacher's nose because i stayed up too late, comuning with other friends in the blue dark. no matter who buys it's always for all of us.  

("have a sip"-"i don't like this one"-"the juice one is my favourite")

like maybe the 58g of sugar and 600mL of caffeine is okay if it's split between us. like the sharing of spit is holy. i look out at the small crowd of seventh graders and realise they are just beginning to learn:

what is communion if not half backwash?
what is holier than ingesting your friends?
what is holier than killing your hearts together?

what else are you supposed to do in the suburbs?
find everything abandoned and go there at night?
thrift shop?
idle around the same mall and buy candles, journals, CDs (for your lack of cd player, except in your mom's car)?
see the same movie twice (the fire alarm goes off both times)?
throw wine bottles at pavement and watch the glass splinter?
run around empty ovals?
break into baseball fields?
go to the same public pool and open your eyes underwater?
burn lacy lingerie that you stole from the mall and watch as your femininity sticks, shrivelled, to the pavement?
go to school and get the bus home?
go to work and come home covered in pizza sauce?
hate it till you leave?
what else even is there?

because teenagers are the meanest people on the planet
because i wanna be like richard silken
was richard silken a loser in highschool?
surely he was
no poet escapes ridicule and most of us deserve what we get
because i’m angry and no one except my parents beleive me
because man up man up man up
because i want to throw my guts up onto the pavement
because everything is so beautiful but none of it is real
because i wanna be like richard silken
and take this anger and make it meaningful

i’d describe the way the sun feels on my face if i knew i could do it justice. its late autumn and the bus came directly on the minute. i hate orange but i couldn’t look at the sun and then tell you that. bless the city and bless the trees but bless suburbia most of all. suburbia is like a teenage boy who doesn’t try, is effortless in hs perfect face (perfect teeth, perfect soul, perfect mouth). he’s my favourite and he smiles when i walk into class. his hair is orange this time of year. i’ve never told him i hate orange because i don’t hate it on him. autumn peels the hot wax of summer off and my skin sings with the fresh air.

spring in suburbia comes reeling around
with the circuit of movies I watch in my head
sun means 'stand by me'
sun means I feel alive again
spring slips its wings down my throat
and I'm outside and it's not raining
I want to go to parties
And I'm graduating sooner than I thought
I hope the younger years find the crawlspace
above the stage in the hall
I hope they find my graffiti
I hope they feel spring too
and all their favourite movies come circling back
something like new beginnings
yeah something like that