Writing to grow flowers out of my dead thoughts
usually late late dark late at night
the gem hours: red with the tunnel vision of 2am
to fear in avoiding paranoia winter dreaming
and waking up to the world streaming light into the window,
but it’s colder then it looks out there-
deceptive weather keeping things interesting

Weather and this life are strange
like how it would snow in the more southern neighborhoods
by Kristin’s house on Jackson St.
(near where the old german man sold chocolate)
and stay dry by my house

Stay dry by Anthony’s pizza where I went to dinner
when my grades were good
and after the Christmas pageant
when I walked off the wrong side of the stage-
it’s always been a horror- to give my body and attention
to a room full of people with high expectations

I guess that’s why it’s necessary
to continue to try to prove fathers wrong
who stick themselves into bad situations and recording studios
and stay away forever

Now: dead grass the only nature around
and Strattera to numb the high decibel level of the mess-
a loud scream, a reminder of tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow
red tomorrow of having to follow through

I write to find a way out of the quick sand- a reason to get out of bed.