How To Lay Floorboards - Marmoleum Floors.
Everything I own fits in this backpack
I woke up today and put all my shit in boxes. It's 8am so I'm glad I wasn't out late. I woke up today. I guess it's good I hadn't finished unpacking all of this in the first place. The suburbs have abandoned me. I've had the same best friends since '93. I call he's not answering. No, I can't get comfortable on my own street. I'm not fond of South Philly or how my neighbours love ICP. I guess it's better than Bancroft Street. At least the fridge here works and the walls don't leak. At least I'm starting to see what's left for me. I'm starting to. We moved on again, so I packed all my shit and left home. It's all right to think I still belong to something I don't, 'cause I can see why you'd think so. Nothing made me feel further away, than "Left and Leaving" through a blown car stereo. Nothing made me feel closer to home than "Ready to Die" through my headphones. So, we reached the coast. Where do we sleep tonight? Damned if I know. We'll try to stay at the airport. "You can't send us home man, We've got no place to go." Don't say it's up to me. The creeks in the floorboards are calling out to me. I'm laying here again with my head on my backpack, wrapped in my hoodie. This is how it is when, don't say it's up to me. I stacked "Lonelier than God" next to "You Get So Alone Sometimes." I know how this must look from the outside. It took almost thirteen months for me to be where I feel fine. I'm not as sad as I let myself believe sometimes.Hand in Pocket, Head Down... So We Travel
Sometimes late at night, I wander around the house, just reveling in the power that comes with being the only one awake. I listen to the floorboard creak benath my bare feet, revealing the age of my house. I see the garish light glowing from the street light outside and the thick shadows that pool around it. A glowing strip of light gleams beneath our door, tempting but I care too much for my own security to answer it's call. I make myself a cup of tea or watch the red numbers change on our stove. I look at myself in a darkened mirror, the barest outline carved into shadow and for once I'm satsified with my reflection, for it finally shows how I feel, dark and undefined. Sometimes I just wrap myself up in a blanket and lay back on the leather couch. I stare through the skylight and watch the branches waving to the full moon. It's beautiful at night, when being alone isn't quite being lonely and the twilight world between dream and sleep seems to lurk in every shadow. Those threats and those promises, those things that go bump in the night, they come alive when we decide to sleep. I can tread softly on my family's dreams and dance among shadow. No one would ever know. No one would ever know.
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