click.
hiss.
"Trade you."
"Thanks bud."
A chorus of laughter and we are seated again,
next to a heat box and a conversation the same
As we talk I fidget,
Itching to dig into deeper things
I can tell,
He does not want to let himself go,
But needs somebody to trust
with his own fragile mind
He's nine in,
And when I ask why he drinks he says,
"There is something inside of me that needs to be killed."
(I know that's why I do it too)
And when I lean in close and ask him what that is he says,
"Everything."
This boy knows me, but he doesn't know yet
He laughs his statement off,
But I find darkness in his eyes
I find anger and sadness
I find the same wilting flowers in his soul,
that rest in mine
We like the same things yes,
We laugh a lot yes,
But I think we are the same,
yes?
Now I'd just like to find a spot alone,
and lay with him
Would rum and coke let me reach inside his chest,
Or would he let me hold his heart
With a clean mind?
