THE END

Sometimes you lose the things you love. It my be by choice, or by circumstance. But it always, always, fucking hurts.

From the book "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
Ans thats what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Velntine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And thats what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed alot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocense: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And thats what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostles Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring loudly

Thats why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because thats what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didnt think
he could reach the kitchen

I watched a show on speedchannel last night about the best car commercials of all time and it got me thinking. Too much. What Speedchannel stated as the best commercial featured a young women singing about exploring the U-S-A in your Chev-ro-let and she seemed so happy, so pure, so simple. I long for that. No one and nothing is pure. The whole world is now about fucking, drugs, and other bullshit like that. The world has seen such demoralization in the past 60 years its unbelievable. I want the simple days with purity and worry free fun. I hate this modern world.

Speak slowly, but deliberately, and let each word deliver an equally crushing blow