I think I'm ready
to leave this
neighborhood now. It's
not much of one.
The walls are paperthin
and the people are thick
as walls.
We're generally looked down on here
(me and my friend).
we're looked down on
in almost every inch
of this world.
The fruits,
plants and
trees despise our presence.
They have a
murky develish grin
when we're there
and we're constantly
burning and
killing them.
We don't want
to harm anyone, no.
We just want to
make our ride
Take the hard
way out. We're
not humans, we're
a spirit and
a writer. It's only natural.
We were sitting
at a desk that's
in need of tidying up
(this is my friend's fault
not mine.
If he didn't poke at me and
tuck on my shirt every
sunrise and
we'd have cleaned up a little)
when it happened: the greatest
and worst thing imaginable.
Like finding out the man you
wished dead
finally is...dead, but he's taking
you with him.

I think I'm ready
to leave this
neighborhood now,
not the finest part of town;
this place. Seedy humans,
falling apart around
every ****ing corner.
She walked in rather
abruptly and handed me a paper.
First thing I noticed was
the headline.
Written in large,
fierce red.
I knew it was coming
anyway, it's been ages
since we've pleased
the masters.

I really do think I'm ready.
To leave.
Ready to take on the world
and be taken by the world.
Besides, I have
24 hours to evict
this apartment.
this piece seems a hell of alot more complete than the others ive read from you lately. great job!

and i hope things get better for you. im going through a tough time here as well. things are bad everywhere these days...
Thanks guys, and I've gotten a two week extension this poem's just mostly about the day I got the letter. Yeah that's true Dillion, lotta stress on everyone these days.

Thanks again.
The walls are paperthin
and the people are thick

i like this part, it kinda mind f$$k me while thinking about it. good describtion.