free

BAM.
It hit him. Sitting on the toilet. Looking at palm tree whiskers through a tiny, screen infested window. That's when it finally all came down, off the wall, and on his head. Still sitting there, on the toilet bowl like a king, pants around his ankles, ellbows propped up on knees, head propped up on fists. Pounding, somewhere to the back, where her perfume bottle hit his scar. His left ear whining loud in rejection. His head the cushion to the blow of a shelf full of toiletries, lovingly gathered and assorted through years of income spent in the beauty section of the supermarket. All of her prettiness, her utterly adorable cuteness, the smell of her lipsticks and her powders and her wild assortment of deodorant spray bottles, everything that had pleased him so much, just come crashing down. Right on top of him. While he was sitting on the god damn TOILET for Christ's sakes. Clouds of alcohol and sweet smells begin evaporating. What, really, can you do?
He chooses to do exactly what he had always needed to do. He continues to sit, in this beautifully created garbage pit, and stops, for the first time, bemoaning his existence, and instead does, what any healthy person would've done years ago: He bemoanes her existence.

Regulations, limitations

"ONE hundred."
"One HUNDRED thousand."
"Just cry a lot. And it'll all flush out."
"Two HUNDRED thousand."
"Expendables. You know? Shit you can do without."
"Three HUNDRED thousand."
"They're in the thousands now."
"Yeah."
"Four HUNDRED thousand."
"Let's leave."
They get up, walk through rows of people, one wearing a hoodie pulled deep into her face, the other toting a skateboard.
"Five HUNDRED thousand."
"That emphasis on 'hundred' was starting to piss me off."
Light is flooding the plaza, they walk out of the musty building right into it, squinting and jumping around a bit, to get some movement going.
"Seventybillion HUNDRED thousand!"
"Eightyquadrillion HUNDRED thousand!!"
"HUNDRED!" She yells it at a pidgeon, and it flys off.
"See? Not just me."
They chuckle and continue past groups of teenagers and old ladies playing dominoes on little, bird poop covered benches.
"If we go down there, we can get some momentum going." They put the box on the skateboard and shove it down the hill. Half way down, it crashes into a parked car, setting off its alarm, idly rolling down to the next car and softly bumping into it, coming to a stop. The alarm howling in their ears they run down, grab box and skateboard and keep running, laughing and running, not looking back to see the street behind them completely empty. At the foot of the hill it is shady, and the air has cooled down quite a bit.
"Where to?"
"I don't know." Reproachful.
"Don't look at me like that, i don't know either."
They idly walk next to each other along the River. She lights a cigarette and watches sea gulls fly overhead, glaring down at them from up there.
"So. I dropped out of college."
"Hm."
"My parents aren't too happy. But I can always go back next summer."
"You think you will?"
"Doubtful." Smoke, air. "Maybe I'll try taking classes I like. To begin with."
"Yea."
"Fuck all the credits for transfer. I'll just learn what I want to learn. Without boundaries. Without limitations. Without regulations. That's what school is for, after all. To learn. Not to follow a sheet of paper that tells you which classes to take so you can have this and this degree."
"Fuck degrees."
"Yeah, fuck degrees."
"Fuck credits."
"Fuck em. Who needs em?"
"Fuck the metric system."
"I love the metric system."
Grinning.
"You know, you are quite strange, ma dear."
"I'm beginning to realize it."

hate

the world is a mosquito
spy on the truth and you'll see
that you're just about ready to break

maybe they've already broken you
lost the piece that wanted change
just fear left in your veins

and i am more than ready to take
extract a little real from your fake
break off a piece of your fate
we know that i am way too late.

I don't need to write my own stuff if you keep having conversations like

this:

What are you trading him for?
Your mum.
Shut up, I'll kill you.
I'll stab you in the ovarie.
You could've made that run and gotten away from that dude tackling you.
You're lying.
You could've done it hadn't you stopped moving.
Why are you lying to me asshole?
I'm telling the truth you bitch.

finish line

i wouldn't die for anyone
but i'd kill for a lot of people that run next to me to the big finish line

as we give a big smile to the people we pass by

i fell out of the nest too early and the smell of life on me
made everyone back away
the stench is still on me today

how did i land in this bubble with its permanent sunny days?
somewhere i stumbled and hit the floorand got pulled out of the race.

watching from the side
all the people pass me by

i can light my cigarette with a flick of my fingertip

go ahead and take a look, there is a lot of wisdom on that wall
but if you put it all together, it doesn't make sense at all

The Golden Watch

The golden watch is ticking again
I found it in a lit parking lot
On a patch of dead grass
Under a dust cloud of radiation
By a tree
I never thought
I would find it here.