cool kids never sleep

4

I made new memories. Put a line through the old ones like they never happened. Like they are nothing but a grocery list. Did that, done that, doesn't exist.

I live. Forget about the feelings that live in my head. Blame it on the alcohol numbing my brain like anesthesia. This is a surgery, a work in process. Nothing inward; make it outward instead. Make it all about beauty, travel, experience. Do things so unlike me, I forget who I used to be. That girl doesn't live here anymore. I kicked her out without saying goodbye.

I'm reckless. I drive through valleys in the darkness and don't get blinded by the light. I drive twenty miles over the speed limit and only slow down when I see the police. When I get home, I smoke weed in my underwear in front of the open window. I poke my head up when people walk by to blow smoke rings at the back of their heads.

On weekends, I build mountains with my mouth and watch the sunrise from above them. I lick the liquor off the lips of strange bodies and tell them nothing about my past. They don't want to know and I don't want to  remember and everything is perfect. Everything is perfect when you convince yourself that nothing is worth it.

So I go to sleep warm and wake up in cold sweats. I ring the past out in the shower and hide love in the shower head. It's over. I have nothing left to give you but memories. It's perfect. I no longer know how to feel.

--sunday morning