Teenage Rage

I wrote this probably 4 years ago, was looking thru my older stuff and decided to share it here



My teenage days were spent loitering in parking lots, drinking illicit alcohol from a bottle concealed in a brown paper bag and smoking stolen filterless camel  cigarettes.

An adolescent alcoholic searching for clarity, thru the whisky fumes.

Lost in the neverending quest for intoxication, I found cheap contentment in a plant and paper combination.

Huffing duster from a can because it's cheap, it fucked me up and made me feel good with the "wah wah wah" ringing in my head.

My skin was a canvas I adorned with razor scars and hand poked ink.

I hated myself. I felt nothing besides the stink of self loathing and hatred rising like vomit in my mouth.

Pills, booze, pot, crank and xtc were my most beloved friends, a salve to plac eover my bleeding wounds, (often self inflicted)

These days I'm bored. "Maturity" has taken the wild look from my eyes, has tempered my rage (a little).

I still drink, fight and fuck, just not with the vigorous exuberance I once enjoyed.

My scarred skin tells the tale of wayward youth and my hollow eyes are the chapter of the book in which the boy becomes a man.

My mouth no longer tastes like vomit and self loathing, only broken rotten teeth and cheap ciggs mellowed with a piece of spearmint gum.

Dont come at me with attitude, I'm not scared to bleed, and I dont give up. I'm like a wild animal confined in this zoo, look at me with curiosity , but approach at your own peril.