Sounds of the City

I've become in a way fond of the way people yell. Mamma yells a lot when she drinks. The store clerks yell when I steal food. My brothers a sisters yell because they are kids, And mamma says they aint got nothin' better to do. And I've become amused by the way the screen door creaks when it opens and closes Every time I leave I hear it, Like the hinges of it know that the home is actually a house and they cry. And the noises of the street, and the grime of the sidewalk dirt. Car horns and sirens that wale and the cars that zip past while we wait on the corner, Me and the gang that is. We normally wait for customers... The ones who want the drugs. They are like us. They like the noises of the street. They fall in love with the Sounds of the city.

STONERS

My parents were gone for three days once. My brother had friends over. The ones with the label "STONERS" And you would think…they would simply make chaos …but they didn’t I came home to find them playing basketball in the driveway And if you think about it they are just normal kids They just wanna have fun, and the only reason they have a label is because this world is fucked up The world fucked them over in some way and they take it out on drugs. And this messed up world we live in just has to put a name on everything, and that’s the one they ended up with. This doesn’t mean that they will cuss at you in a conversation or steal your purse on the street. They are just kids They play They laugh And they have fun

Birthday Candles

When you blow out the candles on a cake, the flame disappears, leaving a spiral of smoke in its path and a very distinct smell. There's just something so magical about how when the singing dies down, you close your eyes, and blow the flame, while you think to your self, all the things you could have and you think quick, because then they ask you what you had wished for . And oh your heart wants so bad to tell them that you wished to be happy. Because you want so badly for happiness. To be able to wake up in the morning and not have to drag our self from that bed. You want so badly to know that you will be safe alone at night when all your thoughts get to you. You want so badly to be crying in the rain and for someone to be able to tell the difference between your tears and the rain. And oh what you wouldn’t give to be able to walk down the street and now have to wonder what others are thinking about your scars. And you want to simply get through the day. And the smell of birthday candles lingers in the air, as you mutter the words "Cant tell, wont come true"