What Else Did I Expect?

What else would I expect?

My life seems to be wrapping around me, like the numbers around the hands of a clockA routine with no schedule.

How did I get so uneven?

Minor successes, bad habits. When my passion forces my breath inThen out to form shapesI can’t help but stutter when I talk

How did I get like this?

I get no sleep no sleep no sleep no sleep doesn’t sleep no sleep — don’t sleep

I love too hard don’t speak don’t speak no time no love hard work no trust

— don’t love

I miss my whole family lonely no crying don’t think family lonely — don’t

think

I need more money for me for me for them count three pull teeth money

money — don’t SLEEP

I am out of bed before 8 AM to move my car so I don’t get a ticket. LA parking enforcement are a bunch of bitches. I shake an empty pack of cigarettes and then crush the blue box. Tick tick tick, I feel my heart ticking. A little faster than usual for it being this early. Three hours of sleep again. I don’t complain. I won’t tell everyone that I can’t stand to be alone in my dreams. Plain and simple, they’re too out of reach I guess. Plain bagel and a coffee. I kind of like mornings. I text my mom and tell her I’m alive and not to worry.

She tells me she loves me, and to keep my head on straight. Sure.

I know what kind of day I’m going to have.

(no sleep)

(no sleep)

(don’t sleep)

There’s this boy, he smokes like the bottom of his lungs are the start of another cigarette. He asks me to be safe and talks to me while I walk home. If I told him I was no good for him, just like I tell everyone else, I don’t think he’d believe me. But you barely know me and I barely know me. You know? I feel like he fell out of a photo, one of those stock images. Teeth in a perfect line, and eyes that have never said anything disingenuous. He tells me how much he loves to be behind the lens.

I guess he wants it all. I enjoy that I’m not his focus.

He asks if we can be not terrible together. It’s possible.

If I can be not terrible alone.

(no time)

(no trust)

(don’t love)

My little brothers cry whenever I have to come back to the city. I kiss their foreheads and promise I’ll be back soon. Leaving is always the hardest.I’m sort of glad most of my friends from back home don’t hit me up, I’ve always been a loner. And I’ve always loved the game, checkers. It's simple, sure, but I know I can jump their pieces. I see more of my parents in me every day. My mom loses everything, and today I can’t find my wallet.My dad won’t talk when he’s upset. I’m sorry. That’s why I haven’t texted back. I’ve been so busy as of late. I hate it. I miss the feeling of security and I can’t stand to see my brothers growing up without me.

I might just make a four-hour drive to have dinner with my family.

But they just might get me to stay.

(no crying)

(family)

(don’t think)

I got a couple thousand dollars the other day, and some good news for my music. I haven’t had a steady hand in so long. I thought there was something wrong with me when I slightly relaxed. My fridge is probably hungry, it’s been empty for so long. My bank account is confused because typically, it’s a pessimist. We fucking hate money. 15-dollar uber for a mediocre night, I probably could’ve gotten drunk and bought lives on Candy Crush with that. I wrote my first track about money and weed the day I only had 12 bucks and a quarter tank of gas. I tried not to think about it. I cried on my way to the studio.

I asked myself if I really belong here.

The answer was still, yes.

(yes)

(yes)

(yes)