a letter to hunter

...a personal piece written for a close friend...

 

A Letter To Hunter

 

I’m in between times tables.

All I can hear is whistling and soft drums and acoustic guitars and possibly an organ

Passing twenty-one, not collecting two hundred dollars.

A wager I would never take, but still I’ll feeling ok.

Too many adopted parents and relatives.

Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, all not mine.

 

D.

 

All I did today was think about her and billboards.

So many times before did I think I know the answers until now.

Still blank, still drunk, still just another face in the crowd.

Adopted too many crutches and still thriving off insecurities older than any of us.

 

9:8

 

pops and pools and palms and pals.

semi-retarded in thinking i’m anything special.

i’m stupid for thinking you would want to be a friend.

 

gravel and gavel and gamble and god

luckier than another dog finding shelter in this storm

a bullet in his side. a fire in the south side.

 

i saw you cry.

 

XCX:

 

Make a bed.

Make life another month behind.

Make way for everyone else.

Make a make to make our very own.

 

$$$:

 

you said it would matter.

i didn’t believe a word of it.

and to this day i wonder if i did right.

and still this music keeps playing.

day in day out day in day out day….

 

and:

 

sober and feeling better than anything.

sleeping naked on a Tuesday afternoon

leave me be. i’m not hurting anyone.

 

clothes on a pile at the foot of my bed.