cheesy title, i know.


i can hear the noise through the garden,
youthful innocence
converted to tones in the lovliest of symphonies.
and as she puts on her autumn sweater
she says to me
"i've never been more far away from that than i am right now".
and all i can do is nod
i'm not where she's at anymore.

this town will soon just be a past chapter of my life,
a waste of time,
a twenty-one year old nothingness
of unread ginsberg books,
unwritten poems,
unformed bands
and unsaid words.
someone or something
will come to free me.
but i know it wont be her.