donate to ya boy

Thursday, November 18, 2010


i looked up the girl i was in love with in fourth grades facebook page. I dodged a bullet on that one. I cant help but be melancholy,strained by the light from the sun,inhaling the last bit of tobacco into these rapidly aging lungs. I forget the hardships and move on..sort of. I lost her,I lost us rather,and now all these old love notes are tattered and shoved in a back pack on the floor,strewn amongst my legal portfolio. Why do my friends keep dying? No marriages to attened,only funeral percessions in the dark afternoon.rain is confession weather;I lower my head and except my doom,to die alone,as all the others do. I fuck amongst the headstones in hopes to fell alive;no more substances,just good old fashioned desires.her last note says she hopes to meet me again,maybe in another state,under diffrent circumstances...but I know by that time she'll be married with a beautiful family,and Ill be waiting in that city we both knew Id be in.lost in the market,hoping to steal a glance from some young and wild prize for the night;no life in my eyes...just deep sad and winding spirals. No warmth on these bones,every now and again struck by methadone shivers...or raw nerve endings from the years of decaying my liver...all i want is a hand to hold... asoul to share...a beautiful home...but its not the life i chose,so i march on.

1 comment:

  1. Great rhymes...

    thanks. Went well with this black-cold early morning, tokes, and coffee.