n0t a waste 0f space.

rollerblades in summertime

rollerblades in summertime

are the reminders of my childhood whims.

the nostalgia of adventure, the freedom of innocence.

running, rolling, gliding, flying,

happy ghosts with hypnotic thump-thump-thumps,

as the wheels ricochet softly off the sidewalk cracks.

i would traverse across the neighborhood,

a tiny, me-sized globe,

i'd sell lemonade to neighbors, for the summer heat instead of the money,

the naivety of faith, believing in perfection.

because rollerblades in summertime

are as close as i'll get to it.

the dandelion wishes were never weeds to me,

and the glow of my streetlamp,

where light meant safety.

because rollerblades in summertime,

the once rose-tinted memories,

just provide bittersweet nostalgia

for the way things used to be.

reach deep inside, pull it out,

from my gut and bloody insides,

you'll hang my heart and stomach on a hook out here to dry.

bleach my eyes, drown my brain,

sew my mouth shut too.

life was so much easier when sunflowers were all i knew.

i slip and fall, wheels spin round,

a carousel of disorientating time.

i blink, the sidewalk's in my face

and my legs have scars on thighs. 

apologies, this was not my plan,

i thought the neighborhood was safe.

innocence is easy when

you're surrounded by pretty gates.

but rollerblades in summertime,

only last for a little while.

soon you wake up in bills and slippery regret

realizing you're no longer a child.