giddy&disaster
“it ain’t all hugs and handshakes” was playing on repeat,
foreboding.
Crime in Stereo, there was crime in a lot of things back then.
and it didn’t help that he hid the needles in the hollow of his speakers,
filthy bedroom, filthy black futon, criminal youth.
it didn’t help that i told his mom.
back then, when it began,
we never would have believed
or could have guessed.
he was shy smiles and shaking hands,
he was crooked teeth and pure white.
happy.
and i was starstruck, enchanted,
(determined and) certain this time.
and we were free.
there were 7 of us and we were fucking free.
but then life came hunting.
then he was stolen from and stolen.
he was broken and he broke and he crumbled and i kept fighting.
how seamlessly denial passes for destiny
when youre desperate– sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, dead.
i made it to nineteen before i let it fall.
even then they had to drag me away.
but before that.
before that i was always flying.
before that we were golden.
i was seventeen and he was my savior.
before that fall, his fall, the fall of man, the end of everything,
before irreversible betrayal, there was perfection.
we never saw it coming.
i was giddy. he was disaster.
