A New Complaint
2009-09-19, 1:36 a.m.

It was nearly noon on Halloween, far too early for the departed and the damned. We: me and him, were separating a rough collection of candy obtained from the ugliest girls in school and underclassmen. Both of which would give up their virginity to a flirty senior, so candy was a simple triumph.

We both sat above the pile, contented with our victory and sipping a communal mountain dew. We spoke of days that would never come and fawned over our newly aquirred cigar. We both shared a dream of a crowd as Freddy Murcury saw it. Our crowd.

A world where we could be ourselves and not slaves to the Man, even though we weren't sure who the man was. Where we would see a world and pass women around backstage as carelessly as we pass a cigar now.

High school is a New York minute.

He left like clockwork at the sound of the second bell, for second lunch. He quickly needed to head out while his girlfriend was in class to find a freshman he could con into a quick fuck during free period.

I sighed, knowing this was fun for now but a pipe dream. They didn't know, no one knew. I won't die a nobody, I can't fade away. I took out my thrashed composition notebook, and began to write in the empty drama class.

And then, I was not alone...

"I've been buried in your heart shaped box for weeks."
-Nirvana, Heart-Shaped Coffin

Do nothing

Repitition of HatredLoveless AvenueBurn Out (and) Fade Away