now even dogs leave people. apparently, my facebook friend’s dog just died.
i miss my person.
i miss me.
i miss fantasizing about girls ill never have. i miss wanting to drink alcohol and coffee. i miss taking a hit of my friends’ cigarette. and getting envious of my friends who smoke weed. i miss standing at the edge of the cliff once in a while. and reading books. and writing poems. and talking to women until three in the morning. i miss singing. and drinking liters of coffee. i miss spilling milk over my bed sheets.
it feels like almost a year since i’ve done any of these things. i cant imagine how i was able to manage being a bad guy, a dreamer, a lover, an extrovert, and an introvert at the same space, and dimension all at the same time. it feels rad. I AM A PERSON. i used to be different. and it’s beautiful that i’ve cheated life by simultaneously becoming a lot of people.
this is my genius.
i want to write about unsharpened crayons,
my dead grandma,
long dirty untrimmed nails,
and skinny devirginized teenagers
but enough with the negativity
only buttons are the son of art
for when one’s left with nothing but freedom and thievery
and takes another shot of brandy
do not wait for the wolves to cry
no one’s skin is made of velvet
not even if the night turns in
scratch your back
peel off the scabs on its arches
pull out your wings
and jump off a cliff
but never never
forget to take off your