my epic battle between love and rage.  -sometime- i take my turn. step up onto the curb. take off my shoes. jump in. i notice him stare at me from close range. a pair of wet eyes masking the depth of genius. even from himself. he takes me in like glue as my eyes cautiously scan the length of the street. the water is cold against my tense muscles. the leaves are growing this and waxy before you can blink. the ivy is no longer keeping the houses warm. the masses glint and glitter their mouths moving like a well oiled machine. i don't hear them i don't want to i keep my ears in his direction my eyes on my hands beneath the water. i feel smaller here and not as heavy. my white skin is getting worse. frightened of people for so long quiet and almost fragile constantly bothered about a mouth sewn shut and a waiting period before entrance to my mind. selfish maybe but it's not that great in this mind it's almost like one large mistake where i put boys on pedastals and dissapointment threatens worse than death. i am numbed to feeling. lifted out of coma by the kids who take time to speak and write and feel with more than just words. i'm out on the curb again not watered down by need. tying my shoes almost skillfully. he looks at me like death like i'm ghostlike white. he comes close but not close enough cuz he has already caught me with his eyes. with quick sweet glances and smiles to wish on stars with. or planes if yer not careful. he's the alley he's the one that comes crashing down the lanes while i wait in childish anticipation. and he's older than me. and he knows more about life and where he's going. but i know where i've been and how young my life seems. sometimes. .retreat.