3:37am

Mountains

I hear the wind barely whistling, but being just enough to blow the red leaves from the trees. I hear a car..no a truck it's never going to be the person I want it to be yet I can see my heart beating through my shirt. I start to panic and try to let the breeze lull me, but I only remember days passing by so quickly. I'm alone I can't freak out, or I can actually, but that's why I'm outside. I lock eyes with someone driving by. There aren't many people coming through here, but such familiarity yet no matter how long I live here we are all strangers. I need to leave. I need to get away but goddamnit I know I never will. I'm not special, no I am not a poet. Anyone could throw some metaphors together and feel like Hemingway. I am a disgrace to the writing community, but I can't make myself stop. Self destructiveness is shining through my broken pieces, and I can't help but want to throw my book. Sitting and watching the seasons change before my eyes is calming until you think of last year, and how quickly it's gone. So much has changed for better or for worse. I can't help or fix anything though, so I'll just sit and listen to the church doors slam over the mountain. -FFK