The clock had fast-forwarded to 7 o'clock at night,
Watching some television,
Seeing the dumb asses on Jersey Shore,
Partying until they fall,
Showing everything up their skirts that already barely cover their ass,
But I'm jealous.
Their having fun, despite the drama,
I want it.;
I crave it.
But I can't go down my fantasy Lane before I feel it,
the vibration from my phone,
dug deep in the couch.
Some unknown number crosses the screen.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Kinda reminds me on what I did last night.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
I look back down and think, Ah, what the hell,
And answer it.
"Hello?"
"Wow, you sound dead, I think you need something. Or someone."
Oh. It's Ronnie.
Oh!
"Hey, yeah. I feel like it too." I said, switching off the TV.
"Well, I know of a party. I'll pick you up at 10. And don't worry, I know where you live."
"Uhhh..."
"Don't worry, I'm no stalker; PJ and I used to hang out all the time. I mean we still do, but he just doesn't live there anymore."
"Right."
"I'll see you in a few hours."
"Yeah."
Click.
Silence.
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Silence.
Party?
With Ronnie?
Some fun?
Oh, this should be good...
YOU ARE READING
My Monster
PoetryHer name was Skylar. And she was addicted. Her substance: Meth/Crank/Glass... whatever you call it, it still screws you up in more ways than one. But after seventeen years of trying to be Ms.Perfect in an unstable family, is this really what she wan...
