I try to wash my hands of grime
from growing through the roof of time
and mother bought me brand new pants
and brand new shoes
a brand new hug
each day before school
I hated when she packed my lunch
that lunchbox sucked,
I thought it sucked
blue and green on a Target clearance rack
thoughtfully chosen, maybe.
and family dinner, pale and bland
and every florida christmas
and then when I was older
and thoughts of how we used to huddle in the basement with couch cushions
and I'd try to grab my baseball helmet as this time
I say "shouldn't we go down there?"
and there's just a shrug,
I can hear that shit now, it sounds like a train now,
I know what it sounds like now.
We didn't go in the basement before
to hide from the wind.
I've tried to wipe off this ****ing slime
on the trees,
and on religion and self-help
and cars music
writing and nothing,
I tried just to believe in nothing
and hope to die rot away
and stop getting any older
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