B.R.B.

my hands are gripping to a book
i read like the bible
flipping through passages until i found the right one
to pray over
to let my eyes scan over,
suck into my skull
for cheap thrills
of who i wanted to make myself become

my ears are glued to the floor boards of my high school room
wooden floorboards creaking with every movement a fly makes
booming with music
vibrating with the bass to drown out the shouts
slaps
hits
cheap shots thrown in the bedroom down the two foot hall

my feet are planted in a pair of black leather boots
made for walking
made for me to walk away from this crumbling home
with my survival kit tied to my back
a record that screams about pain and suffering im far too young to know about
a book written with the memories of pain and suffering im far too naive to believe
i walk and walk and walk until my feet don't want to walk no more
until my feet scream at me
echoing in my bones and rattling them until it reaches my brain
and whispers to wait a while before turing back.
♠ ♠ ♠
books, records, boots
b.r.b.