Situation

I can't cry during this guitar solo.

I've got three more weeks to go.
There are a lot of things that I would like to accomplish before then.

I'm camping on Madeline Island for a few days with Grease.
I'm going to my father's house with...?
To fix and to paint and gather the friendships for a farewell.

I stay awake at night and I laugh so hard.

Back to the pages, back to the skinny laces
To tie up the loose ends and make amends
Of all the falls
To drop, or to catch and hold on
Followed by new hellos and hands to bring back the memories
Or nos and to fall by those broken hands

I think about those dogs, I think about the adventures to be, I think about happy faces and happy plans, I still think about leaving-running away, I think about a companion

A hand hold and a hand held
one and one for the both of us

knowing who you're going to miss makes the idea of leaving harder

I do not feel heavenly. I do not feel kind
I feel like fucking shit up- getting rip-roaring drunk
while howling to the stars.
I'll break your bottles, and scare your mothers.
And throw these textbooks to the seas.

Questions

and it's hard when you have them, to answer them, and realize
it's always the pit
you eat but it never fills, so you question
and you ask questions, or you don't and you wait
it's easy to think of things, to always think of them
and never change- that comes with questioning
over and over, the realizing plays
and you realize the potential of every possible way
and you question the outcome or the path of realization
thus the pit, and trying to fill

it willfill someday