We're leaving here, 

leaving each other. 

We're teething. 

"Are you ready?" "NO" 

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth 

and I hate the way that it tastes. 

I do enjoy its cold slick surface. 

The laziness that I represent. 

 

We must repent. 

Me, for my sins. 

You, for mine too. 

Because we all stole from one another. 

You took the way that I say "water" 

I only drink ecuadorian coffee 

and you stole my love for dried meat, 

then never gave it back. 

 

And now we are leaving. 

Leaving, leafing, leaf. 

Cover me in a plastic sheet 

and count the spread of my veins. 

I'm at hetrocotelydon

(A dicotelydonous weapon of mass destruction) 

I feed on power from the sunshine 

and sometimes I go green. 

So do you 

and you. 

We're all green; envy, nausea, yellow fever diarrhea. 

Your mother's a believer 

Please her. 
She's-ah 
Gon-ah 
she's not
so hot 

any longer

And we're wondering what happened to the rose colored glasses of our childhood. 

It's not just your wrinkles, 

its the thinness in your lips 

and the way I have started to notice some 

pretty, petty comments. 

 

But I still love you, 

too true, too true. 

We're all black and white 

and it's funny and ridged and terrifying.