(no subject)

[withthebottle]

This isn't what I wanted.
A year ago
I was deciding
if friday or saturday
was better
to spend
passed out
in my second home
after long hours
of blurry sight
and loud music.

I was part of a legend,
where you could always find
a half gallon,
and parents
were never a concern.

But the truth is,
I never knew anyone
And that didn't bother me,
It does now.

Two years ago,
I walked the streets
In mid-winter
with no jacket
scrounging money
and taking trips to the woods
learning what it really meant
to be a teenager.

I've been trying to write
about High School
like it's over.
Pretending to be
in a cramp dorm
surrounded by
the history
of a hundred other people
instead of
this familiar
black office chair
in the room where my sister
kicked a hole in the wall
and said she just fell
to get out of trouble.

I'm trying to compose a history
that isn't over
Because the truth is,
I'm just biding my time
until it is.