Untitled #3
Drivin’ in my car,
Think I’ll go real far,
I don’t really care.
I just wanna see the sights
and spend all my nights,
Drivin’ far away,
Until the break of day.
Even then I won’t stop,
I’ll just drive until I drop,
And if the road happens to end,
I’ll just turn around and start again.
I don’t remember what the g in ing did to make me angry; but it was sufficiently serious enough for me to exclude it from my poems and diary entries for many months.
Untitled #4
I thought that being friends,
Meant more than
Being there when
Nothing better was around.
But fuck me,
And I can go to hell,
‘Cause something else,
Sounded much more fun.
In the pre-internet era, we didn’t have the ability to post a passive-aggressive status on Facebook when we felt the Friend Code had been violated. Instead, we were limited to melodramatic poetry that in all likelihood would never be seen by the person at which it was directed.
