Doctor Freud in Paris,

Fire to the reach of the poor

Severed arteries and a thick of tub...

Fundamentally inept to mis-directives and I couldn't count to 40...

Definitely differentially insecure when the sun comes up and pouring shakes is the game of inquirers everywhere.

Tone of afflictions affecting my non-verbal insults by passive aggressive marks on an angry chalkboard before I'm even 14...

Twenty tons and they hug me then toy with my empty paradigm when all I see is a hungry artist drinking the collagen supplements to stave off bouts of disillusions that don't "carpe" her "diem" any harder than a sarcastic killer hides from the forest light...

Desperately searching for the sanity of a million hugs..

Lungs full of scars..

And I couldn't even change my mind about the time in the rain when we stood in September when eco-

"What is the time of day?"

"If I knew, do you think I'd change a thing?"

I wondered if the head knew of my trauma as I did... My head... Is- is it self- aware?

But I suit up, Stand to leave the door open...

I sigh aloud...

"You- you gotta be happy."

Like it's your duty, to calm the - solve it!

You've got a problem,

Introducing you.

I calm and exit the building...

I feel so old and come to think of it, there's no room for time out in the rain...

I'm so after the time alone... I abandon hope and turn off the weather in my mind...

'Nother useless distraction...

I turn to the inner Spector and take the long walk to work...

And I cannot seem to guess it... And I'm walking with my eyes shut...

Directions come and I'm a brazen knight for my love...

Distance causes a light shift and the sun begins to come out...

the sidewalk dries, and I just hang on, for there in the stanza is the occupy.

My destiny cuts me like a scorn from a parent and I realize that all of these are nouns...

These nouns aren't verbs.

This reality is empty and after all the commotion in my skull, I look down and see the scars that gathered over the months...

This is why I do not drink.

But nonetheless, I have to put on a brave face...

I must be high, all the time...

To stave off my -phone rings- "Hello?"

"TITTY FUCK THE LASAGNUA!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

-I hang up- and think aloud, "I've gotta stop imagining things."

"Pony!" calls Sodapop's voice. "This is our song! This is our song!"

I exist on my own time and there's only the end of the times left for me to enjoy with my friends and family...

I run outside and sit down at the picnic table across from the bonfire. Soda who sits on a log next to Johnny who sat next to Dally and the rest of our friends, "The gang..." (My family)... SODA, motions for me to come and join the rest of them sitting around the bon-fire and I stared in awe at the way everyone seemed to radiate and vibrate a force of something uncommon to man...

All of my life I dreamt that I'd grow up and get a job and move on... I wanted to be something else, I wanted something else...

But this is not why I live,

This is what I die for...

I couldn't just tell them the truth...

I stood and left at a dead run out of the backyard, through the house, through the neighborhood...

I felt something like the future pulling me and I could hear the voices of the electric world fore coming and the past of the worst people I can envision prodding at my heart as I ran... I could hear and feel the gang at my back...

All the yesterdays of the family I once belonged to coming through to the clear of the brink of sanity...

I pushed myself to run harder and harder.

And then I left this world...

I took too many Aspirins,

And my life's purpose came flashing in front of my face.

I could see the face of my- GOD- why is it so cold?

"If a sorry could resolve everything,

Why would there be a reason for a hell in this world?"

tbc?

THANKS FOR READING! Please critique this?

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