I have a friend who
Lies to the girls he's with
You're something special,
He'll say
You're my first
And they fall for it every
Time
And so does the pastor,
Who frees him of
sin
Any given Sunday.

I have a friend who
Pops tablets like
tic tacs
And stays home from work every
Chance he gets, to
Forget about the time a
Classmate of his pulled down
His pants, in front of the whole
Class
He doesn't know why,
But it's often his last thought when
He comes down from his high
His mother doesn't think
There's anything wrong,
He just hasn't found his calling, is all
And gives him a meal of turkey on
Wheat with a side of eggs for dinner
Any given Thursday.

I have a friend who
Often cries out of the blue
She remembers the child she took
Before it took it's very first breath
Before it ever saw the sky's
Bluest hue,
Before it ever became the astronaut
She thought it might be
And her coworkers think that
The box of tissues on her desk
Only signify that her
Thoughts are still of her
Last ex
And instead of going out
With friends to the bar
She'll sit at home,
Thinking of the children she didn't get
And the faces, beautiful,
Naive faces, left
unknown
She does this, any given Friday.

Sometimes I
Punch walls and kiss people I shouldn't
And read poetry that validates my
heartbreak
And the words seem to float off the
Page, and speak to me knowingly
They spin through the air,
Like children on a fair ride
Sometimes people congratulate me on
My own work,
It feels so real, i've been told,
So genuine
And I think about my friend who
Prays, and the one who
Flies high, and the one who
Stays up at night, thinking of
Could-have-beens;
I don't think my poetry is so
different at all, just another
Form of self
Destruction.