Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.
I walked down a path of broken glass
And then did it again.
Forgive me, mother, for this sin.
I could have learnt a lesson but
I gambled and did not win.
Forgive me, brother
Forgive me, sister
For trailing so far behind Can’t you see, I’m still blind.
I lurk in the water below a crystal Cove.
I hunt your soul like it’s flesh and bone.
I knew you were coming long before you dove.
Oh, honey, I can’t let you go.
I’ll pick your feelings from your eyes and naw your breast to know your thoughts.
I’ll love you until your charisma rots.
I’ll drag you down with me honey, you won’t have to do a thing.
I apologize for laughing
I never know what to say
Your gaze was so direct
I had to look away
I’m sorry that my hands are cold
I like it when they’re numb
So when there’s no more nail left
I can bite my thumb
“Happy,” I muttered, trying to pin the word down. But it is one of those words, like Love, that I have never quite understood. Most people who deal in words don’t have much faith in them and I am no exception — especially the big ones like Happy and Love and Honest and Strong. They are too elusive…
I walked down a street that smelt of warm and wet cement form the short summer rain earlier in the day – toward the sound of the cars speeding on the highway just blocks away, otherwise uncertain of where I was going. I was trying to escape the 8pm on a Sunday feeling that had struck me at 9:30pm on a Thursday. The street was dark and empty, but lined with houses full of families, which made me, myself, feel empty and alone.
I passed the park where years ago I’d spent countless hours drinking and smoking pot with friends, boyfriends, strangers. I considered stopping for a moment, to wash myself in the memories of vodka slushies and kissing boys I barely knew but I didn’t, because it was not my park anymore. It now belonged to the 14 year olds that are 14 now. I kept on toward the hum of the highway.