School was always humuorous to a degree in my opinion because of the underlying idea
that the more damaged you were, the cooler you were in the eyes of the rest of the school.
I have heard numerous conversations that began with something along the lines of, "Oh, you
think YOU got it bad, well my dad blah blah and my best friend blah blah and my life is hell."

I decided to get a little personal and share with you guys something I have never actually
told anyone in entirety yet. I am pretty sure the whole story is still only here in my brain.
I will, out of respect for these people, change their names.

It's October 31, 2012. It's about noon, and all of us sixteen to twenty-two year olds are just waking up.
Brianne woke up probably a few hours ago already to tend to her son, Aaron. He is adorable, one
and a half, blond hair, blue eyes. I have been living here for nearly two months. I am supporting her,
Aaron, and myself with food stamps. I get two hundred dollars a month to basically smoke **** and drink
on the government's budget. Trust me, I'm not proud of it either, and if I could I would pay it back.
Since Brianne is a single mother and an adopted child, she has a single-digit monthly rent (I was *******
baffled to hear this) and receives support from her foster parents. Basically, if I want to stay here forever
with absolutely no consequences save to miss out on a life of my own, I can.

Brandon is putting on clown make-up so he can troll the streets as a juggalo. I find this amusing as I always
liked to mess around with ICP fans, but he's a really cool kid so I let it go and I even help him perfect it.
I notice he has a bottle of Stolichnaya in his backpack and it's practically full. That, to me, is temptation.
I ask if he would mind me taking a few drinks here and there from the bottle and he says it's fine, so I proceed
to get a nice one p.m. buzz. It was always my favorite drunk, very light, and airy, almost like you're still asleep.
Something bogs you down, but it doesn't bother you, somehow it makes you lighter.

For the rest of the day, we hook up with a few friends, go out and trick or treat in the pouring rain, get soaked
and wait for two hours under an overpass while Brianne goes and gets her car. From there, we proceed home.

At this point, everyone is over at Breanne's and we're all making dinner and drinking beer and having a good time
(Aaron is with the grandparents tonight). I guess I started getting angry about the recent events (for about a month,
everyone in our group with the exception of Brandon have been slowly losing items...but they're obviously being stolen.
At a point, a few of us did some research and determined the only person who could possibly have stolen
a good deal of these things has to be Brandon) and I decided I was tired of sitting on the news waiting for no one to make
a move after a solid two weeks of being certain that we had our guy. So I called him out... and proceeded
to begin burning bridges slowly and very surely for the next few days. I am pretty sure a fight would have broken out
if Bri hadn't taken me into her room to relax. When I finally do, it turns out I woke up the upstairs neighbor,
her baby, and everyone in the house has left save for my friend Jeff and his girlfriend Marissa. This concludes night one.

I later learned that Brandon was not actually the person who was stealing from us (unless of course
he just happened to not get caught when we found out who had done most of it) and I feel bad for bringing the whole
thing up because I would have liked to stay in touch with him. We got along swimmingly and he actually did have
a lot of interesting things to talk about. Smart, nice, hilarious... Well, maybe he'll turn up one day.

The next morning, I woke up to find the house empty save for Jeff and Marissa in the next room, but where I am,
it simply appears empty. I don't know what happened but I intuit that I have been sleeping all night without
my girlfriend. This upsets me and I begin to weep like a confused child, which is exactly what you do when you're
helpless and too drunk in the brain to figure out how to pull yourself out of a helpless situation (trust me,
I own the handbook). Marissa walks in and begins to explain to me that I had scared her too much and she slept
on the couch and that she had left to go pick up her son. So I realize I need to calm down, but I can feel
Jeff is not happy with me in the slightest, considering he will not come and talk to me (this is extremely painful
because he is probably one of the best friends I have ever had, with a mind that vastly exceeds that of everyone
I have met save one other, and he's a different story). They leave and I decide to stay in the house all day.

This is a very bad idea. I stay home, watch re-runs of a show I have seen billions of times, and considering
that Brandon and I are no longer on good terms, like a complete *******, I drink the rest of his *****.

In walks Bri, it's around 7. She's not happy. She proceeds to tell me that the night before I asked out a friend of mine
and she said yes. And I was a bit shocked because I couldn't remember it at first. Then it all hit me.

A few days before, Aaron called me "dad." Now remember, this is not my child. I am dark, dark, dark, and she had this kid
about two years after we had any past relationship. I am extremely worried in my mind and I realize I am headed toward nothing.
That I am stagnant and can not even afford to go back to school. This scares me, so I drunkenly asked out Tanya.

Tanya...we had been friends for about five years, and I had tried to get with her so many **** times... she was like
one of those girls you see and you're instantly reminded of an anime character. Tall, thin, beautiful hips, perfect
proportions, lovely hair, eyes, voice, and a personality I can liken to a Disney princess/black metal lumberjack.
The kind of girl who has a tough exterior, but inside, she just wants someone to tell her everything is going to be ok.

After about two hours of pleading with Bri to let me stay, I finally send Tanya a message, and we hang out for the next
two days, whence I whisper in her ear that everything is going to be okay and we proceed to have quite passionate ***
for those nights, where I discovered the secret to making a woman ****** with my tongue (tip: if the underside of your
tongue isn't completely torn apart, you're doing something wrong). But alas, I could not stay.

This is the part I dreaded, because I know I have to go back to Jeff's house and ask him if I can stay there for a while.
And I got the answer I expected.

The words he used...

"I'm *******...extremely ******* at you, and disappointed." It was like a father saying it to you. And him and I
have a very interesting friendship built on such an extreme understanding that I knew exactly how badly I had been spiraling.
I began to leave and he gave me a slice of pizza, with that slight smile that told me "just go find yourself, we'll be fine."

I hobbled off into the night drunk, with one piece of pizza and all my food at Bri's, which could have lasted me another few days,
easing the transition into homeless. And it could have prevented a horrible occurance that took place the following afternoon. I
was crying, because I knew I was dying, but I didn't want to ask either of my parents for help, because this was the first time
I was out on my own and I was far too proud to give up and let the world make me its victim. So I walked...

Sixteen ******* miles...

To the next town. Took me all night because I was dodging traffic, easing into trees, avoiding on and off ramps, trying to stay
away from any police that may exist on the road. When I finally arrived in the next town (where I knew I may have one contact)
I decided to sleep until the morning came so I could have the energy to find my next venture.

It was five thirty am. I had 3 hours until sun-up, I had just walked enough to be burning, and there was plenty of whiskey in my veins.
I had left my sleeping bag with Tanya hours earlier, wishing in the park that I had not been so naiive as to think I would be allowed
back in the house. So I pulled out a pile of ***** clothes and put them over me like blankets, in some random corner of the local
park, under some bushes, hidden from cold and sight, with great hope...

Fifteen minutes pass. My eyes shoot open. I am freezing. The sweat has dried and frozen to my body. This is hell.

I grab my things and with the worst effort I can ever remember myself mustering, I drag myself to the toilet.
When I open it, the first thing I check for is cleanliness. It's spotless. I am so relieved. I sit in the corner of the room,
which my knees to my chest, head in my hands, wrapped in a leather jacket I had gotten from Jeff (ha, he really is my
guardian angel, though he would laugh to hear it).

I catch winks, occasionally looking up to check if the sun is rising. When it finally is, I get up, change my clothes (I had
ONE clean set of clothing and it had been rotting with the rest in the backpack) and immediately head to a thrift store where
a family friend is working.

On my way there, I notice in a little parking lot near the store a sight I had never actually come across but I always thought
would be the most amazing luck, and it was timed in such a spot in my life that it was the ultimate miracle...and a curse in
disguise.

In front of my eyes (this miracle appeared in my path as I was walking looking down, so it startled me) was the worst possible thing
for me: A half finished fifth of Smirnoff, and a half smoked pack of Marlboro 100 Reds. I open the pack and sure enough, the celophane
protected every cigarette inside from any water damage. I am ecstatic. This is not only amazing, but highly unlikely.

So I down the bottle in one go and take the rest of the smokes with me.

When I arrive at the thrift shop, it turns out I am there on a day when my potential savior is not working, so I get her number from the clerk
and head over to a payphone and realize... I have no money. So I decide to go on a quest for dropped pocket change.

Before I even leave the parking lot, I see a young man, no older than 23, sitting on a nice red classic-style Corvette and he's
reading William S. Burroughs. So naturally, I decide to strike up a conversation with the young man. Turns out he's the nicest guy
and his name is Jordan. So him and I got together and decided to go out for a game of disc golf (some may not know what this is;
Imagine frisbee but with a golf theme, so you need to get from a tee pad into a basket. Really fun, centering, and extremely popular
with potheads, Californians, beer-drinkers, and hippies) and before we go, he asks if I would like to snag a few beers first.

I tell him a piece of my story and he can tell I am down on my luck and broke so he decides to help me out. He buys us both some beer
and we proceed to disk.

Turns out he's an ex-****** and has been through quite a bit of hell himself, so we find that we're in a good position to help each
other make some better decisions in life. After the game, we go over to a payphone and he gives me money to call my friend.

Buzz (this the only name I am not changing because her name is ******* badass) answers the phone and unfortunately informs me that
though she would take me in any day of the year, she just moved in to a house with one older lady she takes care of, and its a single
bedroom apartment, so there is just no way it can work.

So I go back to his car and tell him the news, and he says he thinks he may be able to put me up for a few days until I can sort
everything out. We go back out to the store and grab ourselves a fifth of *****.

We end up in the park playing music, talking, performing standup for one another, and I begin to realize I am drinking too fast,
so I try to ease back a little. He was playing a version of a Radiohead song I had never heard before

"Everyone this way. Okay, get your hands against the wall. Spread your legs. Don't move."
The doors clanking, some ******* won't shut up in the next cell over.
More slamming of doors, someone rubbing my body all over trying to find my knives, no doubt.
And my AK 47 I conceal, and my ****, and my ... oh ****, I really did have **** on me.

"Move forward. Turn around. Alright, go to bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

"Get up. Come on, slowly... There you go. There's a few more coming in so we got to get you to another cell."

Clank, clank...

"Pick a bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

Something is wrong. This bed is not covered. There is no comfort. It's just a mat. And I have no pillow. This is not a house
of any sort, my bag isnt what I am sleeping on. Something is very wrong here.

I am in jail. Oh of course.

I know the answer before I hear it, but I ask anyway: "What are my charges, ma'am?"

"Drunk in public."

-------------------------------------------------------­------------------------

I'm about thirty miles or so North of inner Seattle. Not a bad place to be. I'm working for a Safeway. It's somewhere around
the first of June. I receive word that Bri has been on ******. And I may have left at a crucial time in her life thinking
only of myself, but I needed to go somewhere I could be productive. Yet my decision left her in a position where she turned
to hard drugs...

I can't help but feel I am to blame. I am listening to the dull, stupid words of my ex boss, Rod, who is telling me
that even though I may feel like I need to help her, there is nothing I can do for her, so I should bury myself in my work
instead. He tells me this in about six hundred different ways before I leave the room after twenty minutes. Well great.
I may have no focus here at work today, but at least I killed almost a half hour of the day just listening to someone
*******.

I am at a loss of what to do here, but I eventually get a hold of her, and after a long time not talking, we come to
somewhat of a closure, and she is beginning to sober up herself. I realize we were both in incredibly hard times, and I still
wish with all my heart there could have been some way I could have helped her raise that boy and stayed and been her
love, and at the same time, still go to college, and progress and get a good job...but I was in a small Northern California
town. There was nothing left, all the old shops were out of business. It was time for me to move on then, and we have
all seen better days for it. She looks incredible these days by the way. She lost an insane amount of weight, and I know
a lot of it had to do with the drugs, but if she truly is sober like she says she is, she'll be getting much better.

A few weeks ago 3 people I used to know and hang out with died in the span of a week. It was a terrible tragedy, and I have been
thinking back on all the names of people I used to love very, very much before they got lost in some way.

There's Lorne Holly, who killed himself after a few weeks of detoxing from crank.

Layla Harmon, who died in a car crash, blunt head trauma, with a drunk driver (I have a tattoo for this, I will never drive drunk).

Heavy Eagle, who killed himself after years of drug problems.

Chaz Lipman, who died in a car crash as well.

Ren Rain, who I am still not sure about...

And of course, Tray Beraldi, who was my closest friend's cousin... I wish I were there to mourne with him...

Last night I got a text from my best friend, who said he couldn't sleep and he barely eats anything anymore, and he feels like his throat
is going to explode, and he cant swallow and his neck is killing him constantly. He has been this way for a year, and he is talking constantly
about getting a gun and blowing his head off. And no one believes him because he constantly talks about it because he is in so much pain.
No doctor can diagnose him so far, he has no idea what's wrong with him, he's been tested all over the place, he has no hope, he's barely
cligning and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold on.

All I really want to say is

Lord? What I have done? I don't pray, I never pray, I don't even know who I would pray to. But WHAT ELSE DO I HAVE TO DO?!

I bring myself across hell and I pull myself from the worst depression I h

The most beautiful woman of Oz,
The Good Witch.
Dark brown eyes full of innocence,
A mind naiive,
Lips that smile sweetly.

Oh Theodora,
That you should become the Wicked Witch of the West.

He didn't love you
He never did
He was a player
And fooled you
Your innocent heart
How it broke
The childish nature
Maturing with each tear

You said you'd be his queen
Give your life to him in service
Happy to do anything for him
But he ran before you had a chance

He ran and found Glinda
Glinda the Pretty Once
Father's Daughter
The Wise Witch
Creamy milk skin,
Pink cheeks,
Fair eyes
Blond hair,
How could you compete with her charms?
There was no winning the Wizard's heart now.
All hope was lost
Your dream crushed
The tears fell
Burning scars into your cheeks.

Oh Theodora.
If only you hadn't been so naiive.
Your sister Evanora is the real Wicked Witch
If only you had seen it.

She offered you an apple
Grown in hell
Poisoned with jealousy
Sweetened with hatred
She promised it would change your life forever
Change your heart
Make it impenetrable to everyone
She did not lie
And you believed

You bit into the apple
And suddenly everything was clear
Evanora lied to you for years
Glinda was the Good Witch
And you were dying.

Your heart saw clearly as it dissolved in you,
Theodora.
All that was good and innocent,
Kind and caring,
Withered and shrunk.

You became the Wicked Witch of the West,
Cruelty at its best
And jealousy at its worst
Oz betrayed you
And you wanted him to die
Along with everyone else

It's all over for you Theodora.
Oz believed there was still good inside you
That could come out someday.
He understood that he had caused you to become this
That Evanora's magic had worked on you.
You denied him.
You shouted never.
Whatever was good left was destroyed in that moment.

Theodora the Good, we mourn you.
Theodora the Wicked Witch, fear us.
You will be defeated someday.

I do not let my horoscope define me.
The stars have also been a reminder that
I am far smaller than I sometimes feel,
but they have not written my life for me.

I disregard the nature of the Taurus
and the instinct of the Leo,
and I decide to write myself instead.

I do not allow my bruised legs and
black lipstick to show me for a deviant,
but I also forbid my floral braids and
ruffled skirts to show me as naiive.

I put aside my daisy crowns,
and burn my tattered jeans,
because I am not a symbol
of the articles I wear
nor a victim of how they
draw me up.

I hardly let my fair skin and my
green eyes tell anyone anything
about me that might make them cry,
instead I tell my pout and my feet ro
tell them that I am stand-offish and
do not crave the questions.

I do not let my lashes draw the boys
or my shape attract the men.
I paint myself in tainted colors
and wait for hell to make its mark on me.

I am discovering that,
I hide too much of myself to be a person,
and am fading into an idea instead.

the world is one ****** up, crazy, beautiful place.
we are all bipolar in our own minds and confused with our existance
we make something of ourselves based on the lies we are fed everyday
we judge  everyone and EVERYTHING, because we are always comparing
we are always ready to compare something to another thing
and that is what makes us so ******* disgusting
STOP.
and ******* listen.
listen to the steady beat of a child, and a rapidly chaotic beating of one on the brink of death

listen to the racial slurs and gender specifications and ****** orientations we implement every day

listen to the laughter and to the sobbing and to the screaming of a ‘happy’ home

listen to the gunshots and tortured souls and heartbroken soldiers footsteps on foreign land

******* listen to the things which make human beings human

women are not plastic and molded exactly the same to be sold in window displays at the mall

soldiers are not heartless and unbreakable to the bone

children who laugh are not always happy, naiive and carefree

why do we always have to listen to the media or to our best friends or our families opinions?
you have your own brain and heart
use them, and  stand up for yourself, for others, for the world
because the world cannot heal by itself
we need to act.
now.

futile vanities to play with your senses
(shame it only lasts so long)
crackling breaking snowy shards
creamy pottery remnants
once a work of art that bred much pleasure after a life spent in hibernation, naiive solitude
(shame it only lasts so long)
the calendar may remind
the streets at night may taunt and haunt and leave you breathless
but the eggshell remains are under your feet
solely for you to crush

-cj

Silence
Lightness
Breaking Free
Twisted heavy heart
Reach into my soul and tear it out
The shaman
Tension release
Details in your watchful eyes
new process of being
Listening
Genuine concern
All yummy
It seduces me with faith
Moonrocks
Vagos
No problems
Beck
Radiohead
Jamorequi at your request
Most comfortable bed
More than just the week's tension
Themes not rhymes
Truth not games
Breaking through to 25
Growth accelerator
Your learned eyes
Whats behind them
Magician
Wizard man
Trying to figure it out ruins the high
I can see you fighting
Your putting your guards up
Tears at my slow pace
Not being able to catch up
Grasping for any thread of intimacy
I can find neath the cloak
of ****** favors
Not so naiive now
I was performing
An oriface of experience
Needing to be
Filled
Filled
Filled
Until naturally i exploded
Guards down but fighting back
Taken a night
to look at my self

I'll be rich soon  when  my Litecoin finally takes off.
been making a nice profit lately    and I'll be able to check in at the Mandalay
bay.

get myself a room   and 30 escorts
and snort some coke   and drive in a ferarri with a ****** while throwing wads of 1s at crackheads.

That's making it.


Really I should have been born in a   yurt 2000 years ago,
hunting elk with my forebears   and laughing heartily
as we sip
the honey    wine  and  dance over a   fire in the dim night  where time is meaningless
and death is only natural.


but I'll make do with my options

& then i let the music take control of me
I let him control of me.  he was my writer and I was his poetry
I was his rider and he was always driving, I let my heart think for me
I'm naiive, I close my eyes and let my heart see for me
I see you.

A train rumbles in the distance
Dark blue gives way to black

Heat waves
Dusk saves

Crickets and lazy blades
carress sleeps ear

No harm
No doubt
No hurt
No fear

Sliding through slumber
safe in the dark

Not knowing what approaches
from trees in the park

Patiently waiting
til naiive sleep takes hold

Then he's in through the window
and stealing your gold

Back out through the window
and into the trees

Like a cat with gold chains
on a flying trapeze

They lie there,
Still,
Never moving.
Nothing is said from either side,
And even though the world,
Stops,
The silence is so loud.
So many conversations are taking place,
Theirs, their peers, and so many judgements.
Questions arraise and fear sets in,
The "what if's?",
The "What to do's?",
The "Hows?" and the "Whys?"
Especially the "What will happen's?"
All fill the one room and the bed they share.
They don't stray from each other,
Because they know that now they only can depend on one another.
When the silence breaks.
The only words spoken,
"I'm sorry",
Then "I love you",
And finally "Are you going to leave me?"
So many possible options and back up plans
The tears begin and the seriousness insues.
They're both equally at fault,
Both needing more than they have.
And for some reason and no reason at all,
The love is enough.
It makes the fear and the judgements seem elementary.
Love sheds light and a whole new situation,
Not an issue but the love of a new perspective.
Family,
One of their own.
But are they ready?
No one thinks so.
Too soon, too young
Naiive and dumb.
But who are people to judge what they don't understand.
It's love not lust,
It's a whole new plan.

Shadow bends, bury it before its life smothers ours
Blackening out the sun, carressing the pure snow, it's in between our fingers
(Somewhere lodged is a song title)
Sweet tastes and a naiive fever
Sleep, the silhouette will stay still because you're so young, lovely, innocent
(The bedposts will sway and rock you, sway and rock you out of, out of here)

-cj

I'm not a painting,
you can't frame me.
I'm not a statue,
you cant leave me be.

Don't string me like a row of lights,
I'm not made for that.
Don't leave me like a half read book,
only reading me when you want me.

I'm not a bec and call,
and if you thought I'd be like that,
you never really knew me at all.

I shut the lights and locked the doors,
don't bother knocking, I'm not home.
And even if I am, I won't be naiive
enough to open up the door again.

I'm scared, and I'm fragile,
so I'll probably never get better.
I hope it resonates in you;
that you've ruined me forever.

I've built the walls that held me,
and helped me fall apart.
And even when I try and knock them down,
I'm only breaking my own heart.

It's something I'll have to live with.
It's like a rock in my shoe.
I can't shake it off,
and it'll always be there.

It's been five months
It comes back in flashes
Talking with friends, reading a book, writing a paper
I can't get away from my memories
I can't stop thinking about you
You flood my mind day in and day out
I cry because Im ashamed
I let myself down
I said I wouldn't fall for you
I said I wouldn't get hurt
You seemed so interested
I was so naiive
I thought you would be the one to end up heartbroken
I was wrong
You broke my heart without looking back
I know you don't think it hurt me because I didn't cry in front of you
But it did
It hurt so bad
What hurts more is that i am still here,
completely infatuated with you months later
and you have already moved on
You're into another girl
I miss you so bad that ive convinced myself that im in love with you
I fantasize about you kissing me in the rain haphazardly
I can only dream about that happening
You can't even look at me let alone muster up the courage to kiss me
I don't know how to get over you and move on
I just wish forgetting you was as easy as you forgot about me

There's this guy at my school and he
likes me.
He's not my type.
He's naiive and not tall or skinny and he's nice.
But he likes me.
And I want to be like.
I'm not who you
think I
am.
I am a *****.
I am a liar.
I am a poet.
I am not
not
not
not.
I don't know what his thought process is.
God.
I want to be
ya know,
right.
Funny and nerdy and cute.
Maybe
I am
those things.
But I'm also the reverse.
And my humor is mean and dry.
And my ADD kicks in making it hard to play Magic.
And cute? Hell, no. I wish.
I don't know
what
I'm doing.
There's no way I would ever get in a
relationship.
I'd ruin him.
Literally.
I want to be
what others need.
But I'm just
me

come near me again?
yes, that is what made me heal
or maybe I am too naiive to realise it caused my wounds to fester
how you ran your fingers through my hair
and kissed my neck
that august night
a breaking within
and a stitching of our threads
just the minutes concoct
this poison that will infuse my blood with the death of those willowy weeks or
an antidote, whose amber drops numb
then sway my bones to the sounds of
pure love and brown eyes in the dark

-cj

Sometimes this journey feels so surreal
How did this even happen
Life was so normal
So plain and so ordinary
I took so much for granted
The sunlight as it stretches slowly into the room
Sunlight and basking in its presence
The wind touching one's face slightly
Caressingly
Family and how laughter can cure the deepest pains
Friendship with hearts filled with so much love and content
So much support

It's funny how we don't appreciate people
Until a tragedy
Something big
People are good
We make out as If we are the biggest fiends
As if we have darkened the world
With our pessimistic hearts
And our realization of being too naiive
You can't be naive and appreciate life for what it is in this day and age
A part of you needs to be skeptical
One feels a need to criticize "the man"
The one in charge of this mess

Nevertheless
Life is strange
However, I honour the strangeness of life
And I respect it
Without it, life would be boring
And tragedies
And crazy circumstances
We need those
To realize
We aren't just some deep messy abyss of darkness and suffering
There is a light pulling through
Open up your curtains
And see your pain trailing out
As you bask
In the Glory
Of the Majesty's mighty sunlight
As your blinded eyes
Will see again

If you take the dream out of a lover
you’re left with the empty shell of potential
the scarred remains of a once bright
and beautifully naiive young heart

She takes steps off any path
builds walls for others
and tears away
her own self, the skin so valued
by everyone but her own

Great waves of rotten somethings
fill her eyes
until the dream passes by unnoticed
lost in the wash of time
never given
never open
and she lies with her big heart
still open at her throat
the ruffled dresses
of all the children
she was forced to bear
in tatters at her waist

It seems as if they never felt my pain.
Betrayed to the worst degree, doubting i would've did the same.
The love, it never came.
Yet to witness any stand up guys.
Used by the system against me, exchanging my name and telling lies.
The pain one felt after being framed, they never experienced before.
Left me no longer regretting the pain i inflict upon others
The feeling alone, i wont take anymore.
Neglect, manipulation, and betrayal, i realized, can drive a rich soul poor.
No remorse for those opposing the code
How dignified could one feel , after having told?
Pressure opposes all, but not all fear nor fold
The lies so called brothers advertised to me, unhesitantly sold.
How naiive i was after signs were placed right before me in sight?
No loss of who I am , forever being a man that stands on whats right.

Yo, it's 3 o clock, what you doin
Straightening out this bent piece of aluminum for the insects at dawn.
Your face is reminiscent of hepburn.
One fifth left.
5 days left, here, then back at it. It's nice to be here again, seeing the trees and the streets.
I will walk the school tomorrow and see if I've really changed. I'll see if my anarchy carving is still on the bench.
I'll see the mud mound I played football on. I'll see where I got my pb&j in the morning. I'll see where I thought I would never change and where I'd never grow old.
Beautifully naiive and sweet. But I could no longer be sweet. I had to be smart