We were the outer limits kids with a flair for jazz and suicidal tendencies. Our teeth were too close together and our eyes were too far apart. We were magic when that drink touched our lips, and we'd never felt more alive. Like the world was finally changing and all it had taken was a few wars and some whiskey, 'cause baby, we were mortal
gods.

-


3:58 A.M. and there was no effing sense of reality. Just a curve I'd never seen before, a break in the clouds, and a weatherman that was always wrong. We stopped caring about the same time we stopped breathing. We kept our composure and let out the sweetest of screams. And we were forgotten.
Because now it was 4:02 and there was no retching from the bedroom. After 49 years she could hold her alcohol. But there was still hacking. Nobody was perfect. But that should go away soon, too.
And when the drugs aren't enough to get her close to normal, I'll be there, almost like her. Because in 13 hours it'll be dinnertime. And the ghosts can't eat.

-


Their smiles were tribal.
They looked over their shoulders and saw my sickness, Dr Pepper, pizza, cell phones and Seinfeld. But just a glimmer.
How weird was it writing on Lacoste ads?
We did it all so we could call them a bitch, hold our heads up high and pretend like we cared.

-


You saw that spark and you wanted to be just like them, machine washed laundry and all. Even if you were popular. As long as you could SCREAM it and people would know you really meant it. As long as I loved you.