The Leaving Season

We perch ourselves on mailboxes

waiting for obscene letters of home

when home is just behind us

We, the proud have turned our back

from the things we thought would bind us

Like a turtle neck sweater 

in Spring weather

Showing up in a North Carolina Winter

We turn our back a something that had once seemed to serve a purpose

Until in the heat of our anxiety 

our throat says I'm empty

Give me taste, that I may quench thirst

From a house cemented in the ground

With tap water coming out in 3 holds

Be we perch on a box 

Waiting for a letter to take the tired home.

We squat, knell, and pray everyday waiting a messenger

Pleading in an awkward position

People in love keep calling us to a feast 

that'll supply us for this long winter season

But we'll leave bitter

cause we want to be catered better

I live like I dog
Says the man meant to behold
I live like a dog in summer
I'm panting in a regressing beat
The tones of my apathy
strumming me along cursing
The dirt
The beautiful dirt I stand

I hate work
I hate stale milk
and stagnant relationships
I eat like I belong in jail
I hate getting spam in my mail
I hate the three seconds it takes to get texts
I hate that I work out three times a week and I have such pathetic pecs

I'm so blessed at this picture said the moon
I wonder if anyone could this beauty too
What a blessing
What a blessing
Oh, a blessing