Pabst and Camels

Life is going alright. Every night, when it is still considered night; where all the sleepyheads of the world are wrapped in their dreams and the drunk party people are drooling in their restless sleeps with a stranger or something like that, I am awake before the sun rises lying in my bed wondering why the sky looks so big and dusty at this time. The stars glitter and shimmer before my heavy eyes, they're dim and gentle, dainty drips of light. When I finally fall asleep once I hear more than one car in a fifteen minute time span, I sleep for a short spurt, my bones keep me awake, randomly pulling me to wake. I stay in my pajamas until the sun sets and he takes me away from this house. My hair is pink now, he smiles nervously at it and decides he likes it. I know the person I hate the most's middle initial and somehow this is big news in my head. The stories that formulate, the tears that strain the sheets after only half a case of beer. Sometimes these feelings and painful memories never stop. Sometimes they chase you when you're at your most vulnerable. I told myself for a long time nothing was ever my fault and that I didn't deserve this pain.

The people that surround me when I go out are questionable. I won't ever understand people and how they act or how they think, feel, touch..all of it is futile. Driving in the car, passing by houses decorated for the holidays..why? Well, I don't know but I sure do like the colors all bright and shiny. It's a beautiful display, this town is lit up like home almost. So close to home but it's never just a trip to Nana's anymore. It's fucking far, far enough that the lengths of my heart tear up, they rupture and burst inside my chest making me feel more isolated. But his hand is warm, holding mine and the rings he's placed on my fingers, the cigarettes that balance off between fingers like some acrobat. It's routine, this is routine. Open the case of beer, here's to the rest of the night down our throats in cheap ale and smoke.