the last of few.

erratically cutting out ads from fashion magazines to cover the walls in the middle of the night, working fast to conceal the emptiness, trying to get to bed before daylight. frantically skipping from song to song, lest there be a moment of silence or a snippet of inappropriate music. keep it all under control, keep moving, keep up appearances, shrug off any doubts. laugh about being more alive than the squares that surround you; who needs their groceries and automobiles? fend off adulthood with obscenities and days slept away, hold on to this with painted nails and wasted eyes. skip the boring parts.