you parade around

I twirl this pen seventeen times around my childish fingers and feel the weight balance to and fro. strange to think that some don't use ink to write. my mind is still racing and my heart is fonder of memories. in the present however it is still cold and ever. with the promise of men and boys met only for minutes of the hour. it is he though that attempts, and i, like the little coy boyish child i play. too brash for romance and still too young to sit at their table. however it is like i still live double, even triple lives. each one a different version of myself. a little funnier, a little sardonic, a little dreamy. my face is still the same, though my jaw became pronounced and my eyes are framed by panda like patterns. my eyes are a little more red. either the exhaustion or the sadness will make me blind, just like the doctor said. I miss pulling up my school socks to my knees and the smell of the freshly laundered white shirts in the morning as i pull them over my head. i understand, i understand. i'm sorry i'm too empathetic and sensitive to the pain that so fascinates you. the kids in the hall with their paints and their pastels, they don't have focus, they are not determined. they believe their art will some how be picked up by the rich old man with the interesting cufflinks will decide they are genius. they have their art but what is that? will they die in the small apartments with the peeling wall paper, how their years in art school have failed them! will they sell out and make millions getting kids to buy things they will never need? The future they say is either dark or bright. but i have never been able to distinguish because my eyes were always closed. i just walk up the stairs that i am so sure of when blindfolded. up up up. each step the exact length of the last. perhaps someday i will be too confident and break bones by falling down a flight. but we never think of that. I like the girls with perfect nails and just-like-new-shoes, they give me hope that perhaps one day i will achieve this. my friends are all narcissists, but you are who you know. perhaps then we are all narcissistic, arrogant sex fiends with too much privilege and little budget.


where are all the good kids