I should waste more time revising. I feel as though it may benefit me; may I extrapolate the fact I stated waste more time, not spend. I could use that time practicing songs on my bass or beating Mario’s *** on the GameCube. I feel mediocre but that’s okay because I AM mediocre; and a sell-out. I should make that point clear. I smoke; not like a chimney, it depends on if I feel like combusting into a cloud of tobacco ash. I would happily crementate my being. I would happily get hit by a car and become the road ****. I would happily fall from a concrete building into a six foot deep cavern. Passive suicidal thoughts at eight in the mourning; just like coffee but it doesn’t make you need to ****. Just those bitter moments you need to get your day started on the wrong side of the bed.

I didn't think it was going to be any good.
The Party,
My friends.
                                              9:30
Rediscovered pesto to Arnold the govnah' in Total Recall
I walked in their door a thousand times for their entertainment
each time as a new character,
He's got a wii so he can play gamecube,
Bring your guitar
                                             10:30
The fridge had a paper snowflake with ******* shaped designs
You know why I like the kitchen?
The lighting on my friends faces,  I can enjoy everyones expression
Drinking game? Who can't moonwalk, place your bets, take off your shoes

                                            11:30
Pack of dudes showed up, Female hosts forget to invite ladies sometimes
Don't leave! Why? Your the prettiest girl here
oh no the neighbor is coming to complain but
If I know my sister like I think I do,
the two will be shooting whiskey on the roof in no time

                                               2:30
I took a group to visit my *******,
I knocked and sang at the door but she stiffed me
Probably a mistake but you can't start a fire without a...
so we left and played "dancing in the dark" in the parking lot

.... ....... ...

Why am I singing to you?
Your half asleep doing takes for my new voicemail
I told you a story about

TheAA Duracell battery who wanted to be friends with the 9Volts
The throw pillow who wanted to be a real pillow
The doorknob who broke herself on purpose
so intruders couldn't see what she had inside


I didn't think it was going to be any good.
The Party,
My friends.

'I want to be your first so bad'
She whispers in my ear
Near the warm TV glow
But the flow: so slow from her lips.

In complete belief, I believe
Her breaths,
Despite her face: dimmed by dim lights.
The Gamecube murmurs and my heart takes flight.

Then reaching,
To touch her face,
She redirects me to the base
Of her hips; changing clips

From love to lust.
Perhaps she must...

But not for me.
Not me.

To fall for a friend,
In the end, is all.

The thunderous rumbling of a busted exhaust pipe disturbs another Gamecube binge on a rainy autumn night.
Is she ever gonna get that fixed? Makes that Altima sound like a 1930’s car.
I  know too well by now the tapping of the steps coming up the stairs. Rushed and soft, just like her knocking on my door.
11:00 pm. “Just got off work” –says she. Like any other night in which she  came to only 'chat', we end up naked on the carpet, I’m on top of her, my hands laying siege on hers, holding tightly, thrusting wildly.
We wear each other out like teenagers in heat; I want another round.
Stamina depletion: complete.  
I ask her to stay the night. I wanna sleep by her side, her body next to mine. I wanna hear the little sounds of her breathing, feel that she is mine.  Like any other night in which she  came to only 'chat', she replies: "Someone is waiting for me”.

You’re so boring
For some reason you wanna paint in between the lines
And wear jeans and a hoodie
When you know we’re bomb at painting magical exploding rainbows
And we’d look hot as **** in ***** shorts and some weird *** parachute looking shirt
You do our makeup normally
When we should be drawing our eyeliner into dolphins or some ****
Why wear pink lipstick when we can wear black?
You always make us stay quiet when someone’s being a ****
And for gods sake, why can’t I have ****** relations with that stranger?
Well crap thats a bad line I should probably delete that
But I won’t.
We should make a sign and protest something ,
You know you want to.
And come on,
Live a little,
Why do you gotta find a job right now when we could be spending all our time eating cheetos
And playing gamecube
Let’s go to a party,  I wanna dance.
I don’t care if we should be asleep by 10

My brain says no ally,
We have to grow up.
But what if we don’t want to?
What if we wanna live fun and die young?
Why’d we stop being friends with that girl she was pretty cool and we made out a few times
She didn’t do anything wrong?
My brain says that’s how life works,
That girl isn’t going anywhere in life we need to be surrounded by success
But why brain?
Why is success so boring?
My brain says I don’t know guys
I dont know

I crave the unfamiliar, while simultaneously dreading it. Excitement but with apprehension. The familiar is not mundane, instead it is comforting. Comfort does not equate with weakness. It is love.

I want to go back to Mary and Jay's living room. Chicken nuggets, ranch dressing, and Coke in a glass. I remember that night Brian and I played Gamecube while I had an asthma attack. I could hardly breath but was as happy as I had ever been.

My life is a product of grace and benevolence. I've come to expect it in others, which is a mistake. It is something I should provide. Besides my needless prejudices, I convey selfishness. This is misguided. I was born with a wreath of flowers in my hair and a bouquet in my hands. The God of Love smiled upon me. This much I should return in kind.

Wandering through this hostel, it was never quite my home
Different rooms, different people, different stories
How is it that their circumstances became my life…
Is it worth my time, my effort, my happiness… my sanity

Walking through the faux wood doorway, photos on the walls
Distant memories of what it was to laugh… and to love
Broken glass on the floor, the frames long ago shattered…
Much like our dreams of happily ever after.

My beautiful crimson sofa, turned into a bed.
The bed of a 60 year old alcoholic who I call dad
Tables converted to dressers, pill bottles litter the rug…
No longer a place to live, but a place to slowly die

An empty sink, an empty wine bottle, an empty fridge
What does it matter to cook a meal that won’t be eaten
Fast food wrappers fill the trash, among the cheap beer cans
Much like the stench of burnt coffee fills my nose

A ***** bathroom, for ***** boys, with whom I share this space
Toilet seat always raised, **** stains lining the bowl
Beard hair, toothpaste, razors… that dingy ring around the tub
A garbage full of used tissues, the floor littered with clothes

A closed door that leads to a black room, with black walls
Black metal, gory video clips from youtube, hateful faces flashing
Food wrappers litter the floor, along with knives and guns
Hatred and pain seep from the keyhole as I avert my eyes

To the trains and plains comforter, a dreamcatcher hangs nearby
Action heros, matchbox cars, an unmade bed, overtaken by imagination
The 13 inch t.v. switching between Disney and an old Gamecube
The smell of a sweaty mohawk, and a feeling of unabashed loved

Until finally I can retreat into hiding, to a bed with a story or two
Clothes to be folded, empty wine glasses, ******* on the bedside table.
I shy from the mirror that hangs on the wall, and drift off slowly to sleep
Drowning myself in forgetfulness, wishing it were that easy… to forget