For the anxiety and depression that consumes his mind. This is for thursday night. This is for that bottle of pills. And the angry texts with his mom. And this is for the now empty bottle of pills. Did you get that? Listen right now. turn on your favorite song and let it fill your soul. Put on your favorite jacket and go outside and walk around. Run until your lungs burn and your cheeks are bright red.

Because it goes along with this post. Please listen to it as you read. My head rested at the foot of my bed. The evening sun is bleeding through my closed blinds. The ceiling fan whirs above me. Its cycle is holding me. But I cannot recollect the day. When will it be tomorrow. But my head is cooking. From my burning charcoal heart.

People sleep, knees curled into chest. Covered in moonlight and love. In parking lots and meadows and secret camping places. I ran away and started writting again. Long story short i caught a midnight bus to the west coast and bummed around for a week. At low tide the birds chase the kites.