’Here I sit, so dorkishly inside this plastic lawn chair. Sandled feet clad to the balcony as I’m taking in this Jersey air, and I’m starting to think about a girl back home who’s probably thinking about anything but me. I’m starting to think there’s nothing left for us, I’m starting to think...’

Time ticks away,
can’t you feel the presence
of panic inside the oxygen
that you’re filling your lungs with
as you take in breath for strength.
And, you ask in all your naivety
even though you don’t care for answers,
but I just hope your heart bursts like a balloon
because you know damn well what you do to me.
Come closer love,
can’t we just escape this?

Mandy marches to her mailbox
for a letter from her favorite ****** ***.
He’s away again playing music for his
quote-unquote ’cult of groupie sickos.’
And there his letter sits, with proper postage,
she’ll read it later when she gets to it
and she’ll show it to her mom,
who’s never liked him,
who smiles where it says he may never come back.

Now she drives to work
barely affected by his
false hopes for re***urance.
He’s so far away
and feels like a fraud every time
he speaks nice things about her,
and she hopes that she will
see him again soon,
so she can collect the things that he bought for her.
By now he gets a sense
that Mandy uses him,
’cause she acts like a princess,
and makes him hate being home.