Stay away from that victory gin that causes rebel rouses, but no elections
Go join the 99 percent and never graduate your fafsa dreams don’t intimidate me
**** your mace brand justice
and your senior citizen abuse.
join the merchant sailors like the greats. be some one who can change,
******* it what we need right now is someone who can wright this right of passage.
we need another Kerouac
we need another Ginsberg
cause all i ever did in Dallas was die
all i ever did in Dallas was die.
set me free from this pretentious tyranny of name brand sweaters, and lemon bars,
your art house cinema fulhouse applause can’t match the street grit grime of my soul.
too much vermouth with much rancid brine has made me a bitter soul of conquest.
the tomorrow is wasted youth on main street on a wave of *****, and appletini *******
sugar sweet synth pop and black liquorice hip hop spewing out of every show off trendy water hole.
the sixth street, fry street, main street, bourbon street of our fathers will swill down the drain
to make room for the next
for the next
for the next.........
after all we ever we wanted to do was last.  
where do we go from here?

i got this crazy kind of head case where i swear on my life, my head is spinning round and round the room like some kind of never ending rollercoaster. i’ve been straightedge since august and i’ve been taking my pills regularly since july but it feels like i took a hand full of oxy and downed the ***** that my mom left in cupboard, left over from the cottage (jello shooters, appletini, orange juice), enough to get me and my friends drunk and i know for anyone else this would be a tease to get lively and drink with friends but for me this is a tease to end my life once and for all and it’s been pondering around my mind since we got back but darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t because of you and i, no, it’s just about you and the way you felt the need to rub your near ninety in math or your eighty five in french and how your worst grade was a low seventy eight and i start to wonder if you realize how some people would **** for those grades. it took me almost six years to realize that the reasons my grades were so low weren’t because i was stupid because no one’s really stupid. it wasn’t about missing cells in my brains or bad memories, it was about scars on my wrists and never ending thoughts about the afterlife, pondering about whether there was a heaven and a hell and if i would make it or not. wondering if anyone would stop me if i cut up the razor my mom bought me for christmas and used it to tear through veins (frail and lonely) wondering if i were ever going to make it past your low low seventy eight in any given class or maybe i was just stupid (can’t count the scars from feeling dumb on one hand any longer) and maybe the reason i don’t like you anymore is because you did this to me and you don’t even know it but darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t because of you and i, no, it’s about the way you make me feel like i should hang my head in shame for being me because you acted like you were embarrassed to hang out with me that one day in the cafeteria and the image of you covering your face and walking away as ifyou didn’t know me will forever be etched into my eyelids, i got quiet for six weeks and started becoming another person because i said i needed change. but change won’t pay my way to university or give me the confidence i need, it’s much more than that. chane will let me fake a smile for a while but on the inside, i’ll still be the same (loud and bright) even if on the outside i’ve become a copy of everything i’ve never wanted to be (lonely and shy), claiming, “it’s all right, social situations just make me feel uncomfortable.” even thought they don’t and i know you can feel it, the way i want to walk up onto that stage and let everyone see who i am (different, me, not you) but i know you won’t let me and darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t because of you and i, no, it’s about the way you make me feel like i should be alone and i don’t deserve to have anyone like the way you left me to hang out with someone else and i slumped against the wall next to the main office and stared at my hands and wished i had someone else to have lunch with but i didn’t so i sighed to myself and put my earphones in (no i don’t have a gun) and stared at the clock on my phone until lunch ended (from 80% to 30%) and afterwards i ignored you for letting me suffer for an hour (my heart raced every time any one walked by in fear that they would know i was alone and laugh at me) but you never knew why and i never told you because i feared you would be upset if i did and you would end the friendship and i would truly have no one but truth be told i never had anyone to begin with — you were never really my friend you were never really anything (well, you were) but i was never really anything to you which makes is that much easier for this to happen and darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t about you and i, no, it’s about me and the way i let you crawl under my skinand take me over like some kindof parasite that makes doctors scratch their heads and run unnecessary tests (eeg, cat scan, x-ray) while i lay on the hospital bed letting myself die but not allowing myself to tell them why in fear of being locked up for being insane (please, in this society?) they can see my pain is real but they can’t see why so they send me back home and i’m never alone, not with you whispering how worthless i am in my ear (i wish i were as crazy as i felt) your whispers turns into screams as soon as i take my seat in math class andi’m so focused on your screams that i’m staring blankly at the test on my desk like i have no idea it’s there and i’m so confused (why doesn’t anyone else hear you) (how are people writing so furiously) but darling don’t be narcissistic, this isn’t your voice, it’s mine and they take me out before math class is over and drop me off at the hospital and this time it really isn’t about you because they’re diagnosing me with schizophrenia and keeping me in the hospital (so i don’t hurt myself or anyone around me) and when you come to visit me you drop of flowers and i start screaming and they kick you out (they tell you not to return) and for the first time in my life i feel okay

Where did you put your head
last night? Did you leave it with him
when you turned out the light? He kissed
you full on your lips. You were

dreaming this. Because he’s three thousand
miles away. It was after you drank the sea
green appletini and sank on the couch
worried sick about the test results. When the

doctor took your pulse you knew
it was rising as the interest on your credit
card. He knows that you’re scarred
for life. Your future hasn’t been very

bright. It’s been duller than the pale imitation
you’ve invented through your imagination. It’s a
knife that needs sharpening. All it does is leave
stains on your carpeting. What will it be

tonight? Blue as the Harvest moon, tasting
like fresh squeezed oranges. Stirred with a spoon
or shaken? It doesn’t matter at all. Because you
know he won’t call. It’s not the color that does

the trick. You say you’re going to quit. But
you won’t ever get better while he’s in
a different time zone. And so much is left
unknown. So, sink in the drink and maybe
you’ll kiss him again when the sandman says –

he’s the only one who calls in the evening